


Need to Change

by theoctopusrulesall



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Drug Use, Drunk Sex, Face Slapping, Fluff, Hair-pulling, Handcuffs, Light Choking, M/M, Mentions of Previous Relationships, Negotiated Kinks, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink, ish? bottom-ish because I really don't know how to explain ch4 lol, light angst but only because shiro's kinda dealing with some shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-07-25 08:45:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16194083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoctopusrulesall/pseuds/theoctopusrulesall
Summary: Shiro's nightmares bring out a side of him that needs to wreck and claim, making it impossible for him to sleep. Until Matt drags him to a party and he meets Keith.





	1. Salvation

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Need to Change by Landon Tewers and was only supposed to be a one-shot but my friend gave me so many ideas, so this bitch gonna have a few chapters. While writing this, I had to drink so much water because I was getting too hot.  
> Anyway, enjoy and feedback is always welcome.  
> Hmu on twitter @pack_of_keefs

            The itch under Shiro’s skin and the relentless buzzing in his skull are the reasons he is currently counting the popcorn on his ceiling. He refuses to look at his clock, knowing that once he sees it, he’ll grow more anxious about the quickly approaching day full of classes and work. He knows the bags under his eyes are growing noticeable, knows that he hasn’t slept the last two nights, and knows that sleeping isn’t much better because of the images that tend to haunt the back of his eyelids. He also knows exactly what would help him finally rest his mind, but that requires another person and other people aren’t exactly craving what he needs to dish out. He rolls onto his side, tired of finding faces in the ceiling, and the sheets stick to him as he does. Shiro isn’t exactly in the position to afford the amount of AC it will take to quell the fire his body is when he’s like this.

            To kill time and to worsen his suffering, he thinks of Adam. He remembers their last fight which followed their last fuck. Adam had wanted tender and sweet that night, but Shiro’s nightmares from the night before had other things in mind. He had really tried to give Adam what he wanted, but when Shiro couldn’t finish because the buzz inside him was too loud and begging him to be the complete opposite of loving, his then boyfriend threw him an angry glare and scoffed before yanking himself away to get dressed. “I’m tired of this,” he had told Shiro. “I’m tired of trying to be your perfect plaything and never being enough. I’m tired of watching you tear yourself apart inside your head and not being able to do anything because I can’t give you what you need.” Adam was putting his shoes on at that point, keys already in his lap so he was as prepared as possible to bolt. Shiro had wanted to tell Adam that he was enough, that he loved him, that he appreciated that he did try, but those were all things that he had told him every time they had this argument. In retrospect, it wasn’t much of a fight. Shiro hadn’t said much because Adam was right. He needed more than Adam could give him. And therapy. Lots of therapy to deal with the things that haunted his mind.

            That was three months ago. Four days after Adam left him, Shiro had started seeing a therapist. Dumped his nightmares on the therapist’s lap and told her how they made him have an insatiable need to wreck and claim. To feel sane by finding comfort in deliriously pleasured screams. She encouraged him to spend more time at the gym to wear himself out enough to sleep. She couldn’t do anything to help him with his sexual needs but told him “off the record” as if there was one, that she had a friend who frequented a certain type of club. She had given him an address and told him to check it out. That maybe he’d find what he was looking for there.

            For a while, he had. The itch under his skin could be temporarily abated by making a mess out of the person under his hands, but it was all so meaningless. The BDSM club had taught him many things, but perhaps the greatest was that he wanted someone permanent. Someone that could like him outside of the things he wanted to do to them. Someone that would understand why he needed what he did and be okay when he wasn’t. So he stopped going altogether. And that was four weeks ago.

            Shiro sighs when the sun finally peaks over the horizon, illuminating the corners of his room with almost red light. He gives up on the pretense of sleep and heads for the shower once he’s striped his sweaty sheets. After dumping them unceremoniously in the washer to start later, he takes solace in frigid water that chases away the heat in his skin.

            The washer is a comforting source of background noise as he gets ready for the day. When Shiro picks up his phone, he sees a text from Matt.

_‘Morning unsleeping beauty. There’s a party tonight and ur coming w me.’_

            Not like he can sleep tonight anyway, he thinks to himself as the fire starts slowly creeping back up.

 

* * *

 

           

            The day passes sluggishly enough that Shiro is almost able to accidentally fall asleep during lecture. Then again at work while he’s waiting for the delivery man to drop off parts to the minivan suspended in the shop. He would much rather be working on the sweet matte black Dodge Hellcat his boss has tucked away, but the minivan needed more work and the Hellcat was an incentive to make sure Shiro got that done first. When the delivery man finally shows up, the day goes by a lot faster.

            Almost before Shiro realizes it, Matt is banging on his door before barging in to collect him. Immediately, he is met with a look of distaste. “You look like shit, Shiro,” Matt admonishes softly. Which tells Shiro that he really must look like shit because Matt is usually boisterous. “How long has it been since you slept?”

            “This will make night three.”

            Matt almost looks guilty for dragging him to a party instead of dosing him with NyQuil and throwing him in bed, but Shiro grins at him and claps his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure this party will put me on my ass by the end of the night.” His friend looks a little less worried after that and they head out.

            Matt’s outfit is loud. Bright colors that remind Shiro of spring even though it is late January. Shiro’s own outfit is just black jeans and a leather jacket with a white t-shirt underneath. At one point, Matt comments that he looks like he walked straight out of _The Outsiders._

            By the time they make it to the frat house, there are already people making fools of themselves and sword fighting with pool noodles on the front lawn. Someone is retching into the bushes while their friend holds their hair back. Music blares from the inside. Shiro is already exhausted and he hadn’t even reached social interaction yet.

            A drink is shoved in his hand as soon as he makes it inside, Matt already disappearing to see if he could score some bud off his sister. Usually, Shiro would be leery about a drink he didn’t pour himself, but the exhaustion is bone deep and he can’t find it in himself to care. He drinks it and can taste the beer under the fireball. It’s not a bad combination, but definitely not a favorite. Matt finds him again, a drink of his own glued to his hand. “Come with me, dude. Katie said she’s playing bartender with her personal stash of booze and that you deserve better than what’s being passed around here.” There’s a glint in his eye that Shiro doesn’t trust but follows him anyway.

           Katie is surrounded by three guys, one of which he recognizes from her facebook. Shiro vaguely remembers his name starting with an ‘h’, but the guy he recognizes is not who catches his attention. It’s the one with the bright red jacket and dark hair. Before he can dwell too much on the mystery man, he’s being engulfed in Katie’s arms. He returns the hug and looks down at her softly. Katie has been like a sister to him ever since Matt and Shiro became friends in the eighth grade. “Hey, you little shit,” he says loudly enough to carry over the music. “I heard you’ve got the goods.” Shiro doesn’t miss the way the mystery man’s gaze locks on him once he speaks. He feels a pleasant tingle on the back of his neck under the attention.

          “Damn right I do. If you’re gonna finish what you already have, do it. If not, give it to Keith.” She motions to the mystery man and he finds himself turning the name over in his head. So his name is Keith. Suits him. “He’s the only one masochistic enough to put up with shitty frat booze.”

           The word ‘masochistic’ catches his attention like a fish on a hook and his gaze roams over Keith’s lithe body. _What else is he masochistic enough to put up with?_

           Just for an excuse to talk to him, Shiro hands the drink to Keith. “I’m Shiro,” he says kindly. There’s a look in Keith’s eye that does not go unnoticed, but that Shiro also can’t translate.

           “I’d tell you my name, but Pidge already took that pleasure away from me.” Keith sniffs the drink, cringes at the scent of cinnamon and drinks it anyway. All Shiro can think about is giving Keith’s stolen pleasure right back to him. Keith meets his stare over the rim of the red solo cup and raises his brows. “Actually, you look really fucking familiar.”

           Shiro shrugs and takes whatever Katie has just handed him. He takes a quick sip and tastes the Crown before he tastes the coke. “I was a TA for an astrophysics pre-req class last year.” Has he seen Keith before? Surely he would remember a face like that, right?

          Realization dawns on Keith’s face and his lips form a perfect ‘o’. Another dirty thought crosses his mind about that perfect shape being wrapped around a certain part of his body. “For Professor Slav?” They both simultaneously shudder at the mention of that name.

          “Yeah. Hated it. If you think he’s obnoxious as a professor, try to meet his grading standards when they change depending on how many alternative criteria he can think of.” Keith definitely looks familiar now and Shiro maybe remembers personally giving Keith back one of his papers.

          “I bet it was a fucking nightmare. I couldn’t wait to get out of that damn class.”

          At that moment, the string bean with olive toned skin throws his arm around Keith’s shoulders and grins at Shiro. “Doooon’t let him f-fool you,” he slurs. “He definitely _knows_ who you are.” String Bean manages a wink before Keith elbows him in the ribs. Hard.

          “Lance,” he hisses much to Shiro’s amusement. “I swear to fucking God if you don’t shut your drunk ass up I’m sending Allura the video of you sucking your thumb.”

          As the two bicker, Shiro takes pleasure in the fact that Keith knows who he is and what it means that he pretends he doesn’t. The ever present burn in his skin quiets at the thought and Shiro wonders if Keith could possibly be that someone permanent. Or at least not as temporary and meaningless as the guys at the sex club had been. He’d have to take the time to get to know Keith first. To find out exactly what his tastes were, exactly how far he’d be willing to go, and exactly how compatible they are as people first. As much as Shiro just wants to sate his inner turmoil, he refuses to allow his own issues become a sick validation to actually harm someone else. And Keith is really pretty in a way that makes it hard for Shiro to swallow, so he’d rather _not_ scare him away.

          His thoughts are interrupted by Keith kicking Lance’s legs from beneath him and Matt throwing an arm around Shiro’s shoulders. “Looks like you’ve met Keith,” Matt grins. Shiro smells weed clinging to his friend’s skin but says nothing about it.

         “Yeah, turns out he was in Slav’s class back when I was a TA.” He takes another long drink and enjoys the burn of whiskey that rivals the one in his gut. Matt’s giving him a knowing glance and a wicked smirk.

         “You’re telling me you got to stare at his pretty face for almost two hours every other day of the week and you’re _just_ learning his name?

          At this point, Keith is watching them with rapt attention and Lance is nowhere to be seen. “I’m not that pretty,” he says right as Shiro argues, “Slav was a fucking slave driver. I barely knew my own name back then.” Shiro wants to tell Keith that he’s wrong, that he is that damn pretty. Prettier than damn pretty. Gorgeous. Shiro wants to do things to him just to see the masterpiece Keith’s pretty self could be under his hands. Shiro could make Keith remember his name for him just in case he ever forgot again.

         Matt rolls his eyes. “Whatever, man. I’m going to find Ryan. I heard he brought his steam roller and I’m really tryna sleep like a damn baby tonight.”

         Shiro laughs, relating too much to the need to sleep like a baby. Weed’s never done the trick for him though, so he stays right where he is while Matt hunts down Ryan.

         Which leaves him alone with Keith since Katie and the guy whose name starts with an ‘h’ have suddenly disappeared too. He takes advantage of the alone time and extends his hand awkwardly for a hand shake because _of course_ he would be that awkward.

        Keith doesn’t give him a hard time about it though as he takes it in his own and shakes. Shiro thinks that Keith’s soft but slightly calloused hands are perfect. They’d be even more perfect bound. “Do your friends often ditch you and leave you alone with near strangers at parties?” he asks with a smirk.

        Violet eyes widen and he looks back to where Katie and their friends had been earlier and Keith sighs heavily. “Nope, only when they have ulterior motives orchestrated by Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

        Shiro snorts and lets their hands fall reluctantly. A look of almost disappointment flashes on that beautiful face but is gone just as quickly. “Tweedledee and Tweedledum?”

       “Pidge and Lance. She’s great at devising plans and Lance thinks he’s the perfect wingman.”

       Shiro’s brows must disappear into his hairline because the red of Keith’s jacket could now rival the red blossoming in those perfect cheeks. So Shiro was right about Matt’s weird glances and Katie’s sudden disappearance after all. Hell, maybe Keith was the reason Matt even invited Shiro despite knowing that Shiro hasn’t slept. He brings himself closer to Keith, crowding him, but not enough where he couldn’t escape if he wanted to. Pleasure hums through his veins when he catches the faint sound of Keith’s hitch in breath. “And how would you rate Lance’s wingman skills now?”

        It’s Keith’s turn to close the distance and suddenly they’re breathing the same air. Shiro is immediately enraptured by Keith’s heated stare. “I’d rate him a ten out of ten. For right now. How would you rate Matt’s?”

        “A solid eleven.” Their lips are close enough that he could lick the offending alcohol from Keith’s bottom lip if he wanted. From his tongue if Keith would let him. He almost does, but there’s a loud crash from another room that has them springing apart. Cheers erupt and the two merely grin at each other.

        They stick together for another hour at the party, chatting and getting to know each other a little better. Plus a bit of heavy petting. Shiro can’t keep his hands off of Keith’s thighs, can’t stop imagining them around his head as he buries his tongue in Keith’s nicely shaped ass. It seems to be fine though since Keith can’t keep his hands off of Shiro’s chest and arms. Eventually they find out that the loud crash was the result of Lance tripping and falling over the Keg after an impressive keg stand. Shiro is feeling good enough from the drinks that he laughs freely at that information. Keith smiles at him and he feels warm in a way completely different from his all-consuming lust.

        The heavy petting takes a turn though when, while Shiro is laughing at a random guy’s lame dad joke, he feels Keith’s weight shift and teeth and hot breath against his ear. His laughter abruptly stops as the fire he’s been fighting all night devastates any remaining pretenses of self control for the sake of being personable around all these people. He grips Keith’s hip tightly, feels the way Keith reacts against him, and pull him into his lap to meet his gaze. “How would you feel about getting out of here?”

        He makes sure the weight of his desires drips into every word and is rewarded by Keith licking teasingly at his bottom lip. “Been waiting for you to ask me that since you gave me my paper back last year.”

        That’s all it takes and Shiro finds himself leading Keith the few blocks down to his apartment. Which is good even if it seems inconvenient. It sobers Shiro enough that he’s not afraid of hurting Keith once he’s got the man in his bed.

 

* * *

 

 

            The beer and fireball combination wasn’t his favorite, but it tastes absolutely divine from Keith’s tongue and mixed in with small moans as Shiro kisses him senseless. He has a hand fisted in Keith’s hair while the other supports Keith’s weight against the wall of his doorway. The other man’s legs wrap completely around Shiro’s waist and he feels at home between them. He takes to licking and biting the length of Keith’s throat and is thrilled when Keith leans his head back so he can reach more. “As much as I’d love to fuck you right here and now against this very wall, I think you’ll find my bed much more comfortable.”

            Shiro is suddenly very thankful to himself for making his bed once he got off work instead of procrastinating it. The trip to his room takes longer than it should, but only because Keith is yanking Shiro’s clothes off of him and leaving a trail throughout the living room. Once he has Keith on his bed, he returns the favor, savoring each inch of skin he strips of clothing.

            Keith’s body must have been carved by Michael Angelo himself because despite how tiny he seems, his body is sculpted with lean muscle that Shiro wants to run his tongue over. Said body whines at Shiro with impatience. “Hurry the hell up. I need you inside me right now!”

            Shiro chuckles darkly and forces Keith back by the base of his throat. To his surprise and utter pleasure, the rough handling draws a breathy moan from Keith’s lips. He drapes himself over the dark-haired beauty and kisses him dirty and hungry and swallows every sound Keith feeds him. He’s achingly hard and feels that Keith is too as he takes him in hand. Just that single touch has Keith jolting like he’s been shocked, and the most delicious sound is muffled against Shiro’s lips. He strokes him softly, testing the waters with tighter grips and faster strokes. Shiro is delighted to find that the roughest of strokes draw the dirtiest of sounds from Keith. Suddenly he feels one of Keith’s heels kicking his side demandingly. “Inside me. Now,” Keith growls, voice gritty and bordering on desperate, pupils blown so wide that the black consuming the purple looks like a murderous storm.

            Eager to oblige, Shiro reaches in the drawer beside them and finds the lube and a condom. His eyes never leave those glassy purple ones as he slicks his fingers up. As he traces the rim of Keith’s hole with cold fingers. Finally, it’s Keith that looks away as Shiro sinks a single finger all the way inside. Neither of them exactly have the patience for a slow stretch. He thrusts it shallowly, testing the give of Keith’s walls before adding another finger. Keith whines and bites his lip, presses his head against the pillow so Shiro can see the angry red bites that he’d put there. Something possessive claws at his heart and he thrusts his fingers particularly hard and deep, curling them on the way out. He barely grazes Keith’s prostate and Keith mewls and spreads his legs wider for him. Shiro grins and deliberately presses that spot again as he scissors his fingers. Keith digs his fingers into the sheets and tries thrusting himself onto Shiro’s, but Shiro forces his hips down with his metal hand. He watches with amusement as Keith’s cock twitches and dribbles onto his stomach.

            “Shiro, please…,” Keith sighs and Shiro adds another finger and presses evilly against his prostate again. The resulting wild sound and desperate expression get stored away for the too frequent sleepless nights.

            “Next time I get you under me,” he promises as he withdraws his fingers, “I’m going to take my time taking you apart, but right now, I need you around me.”

            Keith moans filthily and watches intently as Shiro rolls the condom on and slicks himself up. The whole day was leading up to this. To the anticipation of having this particular man under him. Shiro knows it. Believes it to be a divine reward for his endless patience with sleepless nights. He holds his cock steady as he teases Keith’s hole with just the tip, feels himself throbbing at the promise of being sheathed inside that tight heat. He could watch that needy hole flutter pleadingly for his whole life, but not right now. Right now, he is wound tighter than a wire and is ready to snap.

            Slowly, he sinks into Keith with a groan that mirrors the man’s beneath him, watches the delicious way his face contorts. “Fuck, baby,” he swears. “You feel so good around me.” Keith lets out another starved sound at the praise and impales himself all the way on Shiro’s dick.

            “Just fuck me, Shiro, _please.”_

Shiro has always been good at taking hints and delivers the very thing Keith’s begging for. He draws out only to plunge back in hard enough to draw a near scream from Keith. Hard enough to make Keith grip his back with punishing nails. Against his better judgment, his hand finds its way back to Keith’s throat and holds it without pressure as he sets a brutal pace. Keith seems to absolutely love this if his cries are anything to go by. “Such a good boy, Keith,” he grunts. “So eager to take everything I want to give you.” He swears under his breath and pulls out. Keith whines in protest but shuts up as Shiro manhandles him onto his stomach. Keens when Shiro forces his chest against the mattress and pulls his hips higher. Sobs when Shiro shoves back inside him. Outright yells when Shiro resumes his brutal pace. Screams when Shiro hits that spot inside of him.

            “ _Fuck!_ Sh-Shiro! More,” he moans out. “God, Shiro, _harder!”_

            Those words are absolute music to his ears and he growls. “Harder, baby? You want harder?” He bites savagely into Keith’s back and feels more than sees the man’s rapid nodding. He straightens himself and buries a hand in Keith’s hair roughly, making him sob. Shiro uses this to anchor himself as he snaps his hips into the ones against him. He really intended to keep his free hand planted on those toned hips. He swears he was only going to use it to hold them, but Keith was begging for more, for harder, and before Shiro knew it, there was a resounding _smack_ , a startled scream, and a tingling in his hand that he had been missing.

            Immediately, he stops, afraid of Keith’s reaction. “Shit! Keith, I’m so so-“

            “ _More,”_ Keith begs, cutting him off. “Do it again! Again, Shiro!”

            He only hesitates because he is absolutely stunned. He had just slapped Keith’s ass, and not nicely by the sound of it, but here Keith was. Begging for more. His cock twitches, hardening even more

            Shiro was more than happy to give to him. He spanks that reddening ass harder before resuming his previous pace. Keith starts screaming, wailing, moaning in tongues with each harsh smack to his ass and Shiro was drinking it all in. “God, baby. So fucking perfect. So God damn perfect for me.” His words are interrupted with another smack, another scream. “So lucky to have found you tonight.”

            The praise is obviously getting to Keith, or the spanking, because Keith starts trembling under him. Shiro hopes it’s both. The moaning mess he’s made starts throwing himself back to meet Shiro thrust for thrust. He lets him as long as Keith lets him spank him. “So hot and tight around me, love. Look at you. So greedy for it.”

            Keith’s knuckles are bone white from how hard he’s holding on and Shiro feels himself growing closer and closer to release. He yanks Keith to his chest by his hair. Wraps the hand he’d been spanking him with around Keith’s neglected cock, the other squeezing ever so slightly on his throat. Uses the abundance of pre-come to stroke him hard and fast like his thrusts. Drags his teeth against Keith’s earlobe. Growls, “Come for me,” into that ear. Sinks his teeth into Keith’s shoulder and watches while Keith comes in impatient spurts across his bedsheets. Feels the way Keith’s ass clenches around him, trying to suck Shiro inside him starting with his cock. Listens to the struggled scream that wrestles its way up Keith’s throat.

            “Good boy,” he whispers with a gentle kiss to his temple before shoving him back down and fucking his still clenching ass just as hard until he fills the condom, moaning breathlessly.

            He rests against Keith’s back, both of them panting in tandem, Keith still shaking under him. “Are you alright?” he asks as he pulls out gently. They both wince. He ties and tosses the condom in the trash by his nightstand.

            Keith just hums happily in response and Shiro laughs, dipping down to give him a sloppy but tired kiss to his lips. He stands and stretches. His back aches, but not nearly as bad he knows Keith’s will in the morning. Shiro makes his way to the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror startles him. The eyes that stare back at him are wild, but more relaxed than he’s seen them since the nightmares began. His skin is glowing with sweat, but there’s something beneath that just as bright. Most noticeable of all though, is that the fire that torments him is gone.

            He wets a rag and goes to the kitchen for two bottles of water. He knows that this night with Keith isn’t enough to keep cure him. Knows that his skin will be itching with need again before the week is over. But for now, it’s enough to please whatever demons are teeming inside him. Enough to thoroughly exhaust him. He stares at Keith’s naked form with a smile for a while. Keith stares tiredly back at him and Shiro knows that they’ll be seeing each other again. That Keith will be his salvation if he wants to be.

            Shiro takes care in cleaning Keith up after making him drink at least half a bottle of water. Rubs the globes of his ass gently with a soothing cream before massaging the leftovers into the muscles of Keith’s lower back. At some point Keith falls asleep and Shiro still watches him fondly. He throws the rag into the hamper before joining Keith in bed, pulling him to his chest, away from the worst of the mess, and covering them both with the blanket.

            For the first time, Shiro’s sleep is completely undisturbed by nightmares.

 

* * *

 

 

            The slow breathing next to him and his own reluctance to disturb it are the reasons that he’s currently counting the popcorn on his ceiling. He refuses to look at his clock, not ready for his time with Keith to end. Shiro feels beyond well rested and smiles at nothing in particular. Sunlight floods his room and the body next to him shifts. “What time is it?” a raspy voice asks him. He looks over to his clock before meeting the bleary mauve gaze, still smiling. “Nine thirty-seven.”

            Keith just hums and rests his head on Shiro’s chest. “I’m definitely getting your number before I leave,” he says with a tired grin.

            Shiro laughs and kisses the top of his head. “I’m definitely giving you my number before you leave. But first, what do you want for breakfast?”

            “French toast, but I’m not ready for you to get up yet.”

            So they lay there in bed for another hour or so until Keith’s stomach growls in agitation and Shiro kisses his lips before starting breakfast. After breakfast and as promised, Keith leaves with Shiro’s number in his phone. To Shiro’s delight, they have a date planned for Wednesday evening.


	2. Feel You Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sure as hell took my sweet ass time getting this written and posted. Honestly, I can't promise any kind of update schedule because I have so much classwork and other stuff going on. I hope those of you who were looking forward to this chapter finds that it was worth the wait. There are probably a lot of mistakes in this considering I finished writing and didn't really go back to do a lot of editing. So please excuse any errors. I may or may not get around to fixing them.  
> Title is from another Landon Tewers song because straight up, I could hella sinful things to a lot of his songs.

                Keith is intimidatingly cool. At the party, Shiro could only describe him as divinely beautiful, but after two days of near non-stop texting and trading facts about themselves, he can now describe him as beautiful and sexy and _cool_. The motorcycle Keith cherished with his life was left to him after his dad died and Keith had restored it himself. He makes his money from art he creates when he has the time and from a bartending job a few blocks away from the shop Shiro works at. He has a wolf-dog named Kosmo that is the coolest damn dog Shiro has ever seen. Keith lives alone in an apartment that is covered by the money he saved up from the government checks he got after his dad died. He got kicked out of schools for fighting kids that gave him hell for not having parents. Shiro takes pride in the fact that Keith won all those fights. Takes even more pride in the fact that Keith turned his behavior around because he wanted to do something positive with his life.

            Shiro feels so lame in comparison when he tells him about his normal, white picket fence childhood. The coolest thing he can say about himself is that his parents are from Japan and they went back after he’d graduated high school. Keith eats it all up though and that makes Shiro feel a lot less lame. Wednesday can’t come faster.

            He sighs and scribbles down another complicated equation on his homework. Sighs again when it’s been thirty minutes since Keith’s last text because he had to go to work. “Dude,” Matt snaps. “What the hell is up with you today?” They’re sitting on the floor at Shiro’s coffee table with takeout and notes spread out between them. “I know you’ve been sleeping, so don’t even use that as an excuse. Spill.” He drops his pencil and crosses his arms while leveling Shiro with an expectant glare.

            Feeling the pressure and just wanting to talk about Keith if he couldn’t talk _to_ him, Shiro drops his pencil too and says, “Keith came home with me the night of the party.” Matt’s eyes widen and he smirks, clearly pleased with himself. “He spent the night and stayed for breakfast and we exchanged numbers. We have a date Wednesday and we’ve been texting a lot. But right now, he’s at work, so he can’t text me back.”

            Matt doesn’t look surprised by any of this information and takes a bite of chow mein before he says anything. “Me and Katie should start a dating service.” Shiro punches his shoulder softly, knocking him to the side. Matt just laughs. “Look, she said Keith wouldn’t stop talking about the hot TA from Slav’s class and I knew that you guys just needed to bump into each other so sparks could fly.”

            Shiro is sure Matt has no idea just how many sparks there were between them. As much as Keith was on his mind in the most innocent ways, he was also on his mind in the most filthiest of ways. For the life of him, he cannot stop thinking about how Keith _begged_ for Shiro to spank him. About the way Keith’s face shaped around the pleasure Shiro was not gentle in delivering. About the way Keith seemed _hungry_ for even more. The vision of Keith smiling at him sincerely and laughing overlap with the vision of him screaming and demanding to be fucked. Keith is _perfect_ and Shiro is greedy when it comes to that kind of perfection.

 

* * *

 

 

            Wednesday arrives and Shiro actually feels unprepared. Keith has plagued his mind in the best of ways for the past few days and Shiro feels completely unprepared to see him in person again. It isn’t that he’s nervous because he’s so fucking excited, but because he’s been awake for thirty-seven hours and as much as he wants to see and spend innocent time with Keith, he also wants to do sinful things with Keith and then have a nice and peaceful with him in his arms.

            Currently Shiro is staring down his closet, willing it to spit out whatever attire is appropriate for sushi and art museum, but will stand up to the winds on a motorcycle. They had argued mildly on the phone about who was paying for what and Shiro had ended it by saying, “It’s a _date,_ Keith, and _I_ asked _you_.” Keith only agreed as long as Shiro let him drive. Which meant Shiro would be on the back of that tastefully restored motorcycle, clinging to Keith for dear life.

            Sighing, he settles on slim fitting black jeans and a light purple sweater that he figures will look nice under his jacket. He has never been the best at fashion coordination but hopes that this will be good enough. He’s barely finished getting his shoes on when he hears he rumble of a motorcycle engine. Shiro can’t help the smile that spreads across his face and throws his jacket on quickly. He’s out the door before he even gets Keith’s text.

            Once his eyes land on the object of his obsession, he really wishes he would have taken some extra breaths before coming down the stairs because Keith is _stunning_. By themselves, the ripped black skinny jeans and red flannel would have been usual, but on those long legs which were wrapped around the bike, they were dangerous. Keith had even pulled his hair back into a low messy bun. Shiro envies the bike. It must have been a long moment of staring because Keith gives a sly grin and asks, “See something you like?”

            He has to swallow twice before he can get the words out. “I don’t know what’s more appetizing for dinner. The sushi or you.” And really, he doesn’t because all he wants is those clothes on his bedroom floor and those legs around him where they belong.

            Keith hums and taps the space behind him. “Keep talking like that and we’ll never make it out of here. Take this.” Gloved hands hand him a helmet as soon as he’s close enough and Shiro furrows his brows. “Where’s your helmet?”

            Shiro’s already mounted the bike by the time Keith gives him a wicked look. “Trust me, I’m very good at riding.” The smaller man has to take the helmet and put it on his head for him because he’s so stunned by the boldness. “The helmet’s just to make you feel safer anyway. I haven’t worn one since I was fifteen.” Shiro would scold him, but Keith is already revving the engine and he saves his words in favor of wrapping his arms around that delectable waist.

            True to his word, Keith has excellent control over his bike and they make it to the restaurant completely unscathed. The sushi place was one that Matt had mentioned in passing one day and Shiro hadn’t had the opportunity to yet. “If this place tastes like shit, we get to put the blame on Matt because he talked it up so much a few weeks ago,” he tells Keith as they walk together, hand in hand. Holding Keith’s hand feels beyond natural and he hopes with everything that Keith feels the same.

            “I looked it up when you first told me about it. The reviews are pretty good, so I think Matt is saved.”

            The interior isn’t anything fancy, but it is inviting and warm. The waitress that seats them lets her gaze linger on them with something akin to awe in her eyes. Shiro agrees; him and Keith do look amazing together. She takes drink orders as she hands them menus and Shiro learns shortly after she walks away that Keith always orders Dr. Pepper because it reminds him of Texas. Shiro grins at this and says, “I never would have taken you for a yeehaw. You don’t have an accent.”

            Keith blows his straw wrapper in Shiro’s face in retaliation. “I used to when I was a kid, but that’s probably because my dad’s was so thick. I lost it after he died, and I left home. I’d rather shoot my own eye out before letting ‘y’all’ ever slip out of my mouth though.”

            “So if I wanted, would you dress up in chaps and cowboy boots? Specifically with spurs?” Shiro grins devilishly at the ridiculous image his brain supplies him with.

            “Absolutely not. The last time I wore shit kickers, it was for a family photo and they blistered the fuck out of my feet. And you don’t even really see chaps anymore unless it’s for a rodeo or some shit.”

            The waitress brings their drinks and takes their order. She stares at Shiro long enough for Keith to glare at her and Shiro feels that pleasant feeling again. So he wasn’t the only one that was a tad possessive. Once she’s gone, Shiro takes in the beauty that is Keith for possibly the fiftieth time since he saw him on the motorcycle. “Your eyes are more blue in this light.”

            Keith looks confused for a second before it clicks and he shrugs. “I haven’t ever been able to tell what color they are and neither has anyone else. My dad used to say that I got the purple from my mom and the blue from him. Best of both worlds, he’d tell me.”

            Now that he’s physically in front of him, Shiro can see the soft expression Keith gets when he talks about his parents. The tension drains from his jaw and shoulders and his eyes look as if he’s seeing something far away. It’s endearing even as it pulls at Shiro heart and Shiro is even more fond of him for it. “You talk about your dad, but really haven’t said much about your mom before. Why is that?”

            “I don’t know much about her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a picture. She left before I was born and everything I know about her is because of my dad. He said he understood why she had to leave and was never angry or hurt by it. That he would wait until she came back, and she’d explain everything herself.” There is something unspoken, but Shiro can fill in the blanks. He can fill in the, _but dad left too and now there is no chance for explanation; no chance at being a family._ Keith’s tone holds no resentment towards his mother and Shiro is glad.

            “Did he ever mention anything about where she went?” Shiro took a drink from his Sprite and toyed with the straw wrappers.

            Another shrug and Shiro watched those pretty lips wrap around Keith’s own drink. “Just that she had an important mission, but he’d never elaborate about what kind of mission or what her job was.”

            The conversation is dropped when the waitress places their plates in front of them. The soft expression is dashed from Keith’s face, but he doesn’t seem upset about their conversation. Shiro briefly finds himself envying Keith’s easy transition. If he were to talk about his own demons, he wouldn’t be able to pull himself out of his head and it would consume him.

            “Shiro?”

            He blinks and realizes he’s been zoning out for a while probably. “I’m here, sorry.”

            Keith smiles softly, an understanding in his gaze. “Wanna tell me where you went, space explorer?”

            Shiro chuckles and reaches for his chopsticks. He hesitates, wondering if now would be an appropriate time to dump his demons on Keith. _Now or never._ He sighs and feels the tension in his own shoulders grow. “You can talk so easily about what’s probably really painful and I guess I’m jealous of that.”

            The smile on Keith’s lips falters a little. “I suppose I do, but it’s only because of my friends. What about you Shiro? What have you got under your sleeve that your friends can’t help you with?”

            It’s only after a bite of his sushi that Shiro figures out what he wants to say. “I have these nightmares. I’ll fall asleep and suddenly I’m in a dirty cell with blood on my hands. Or I’ll be in an arena like place and fighting for my life against these… these _things_. I don’t know where they come from, but they’re real enough that sometimes I wake up with bruises and deep scratches.” He pauses to take in Keith’s reaction and is relieved when there are no traces of pity. “So, I don’t sleep most times. Being exhausted is better than what I have to go through when I sleep. Either way, I’m left with this constant burning itch under my skin and hammering away in my head.” He takes another bite and this time, actually appreciates the buttery taste of salmon on his tongue. Watches as Keith does the same.

            “Is there anything that helps at all? Have you tried therapy or hypnosis or something?” Keith doesn’t sound like he thinks Shiro is insane. He doesn’t have that overbearing tone of concern that Shiro usually hears when he finally bares this part of himself to someone.

            He actually feels himself grimace, afraid of his own answer scaring Keith off. “Yeah, actually. And it cost me my last relationship. Which is when I tried therapy. That and some of the… extracurricular activities she recommended worked for a while. But it left me feeling hollow.”

            “What helps, Shiro?” Keith asks again softly, imploringly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but if there’s anything I can do, I want to help.”

            It feels like an ice pick is being hammered away into his ribcage. Shiro knows that the pain is just his nerves, but Keith’s sincerity warms it away, leaving him feeling light. Like there’s nothing Keith will judge him or hate him for. “Sex. But it’s also more than just sex. The only thing that’s ever made the itch go away is having complete control over someone. I refuse to act out my nightmares, so I channel that by taking someone completely apart. Instead of them begging for their lives, I get the same satisfaction from begging for release.” Once the words were out, there was no taking them back, but judging from Keith’s parted lips and the blush on his cheeks, there is no reason to take them back. “I had a boyfriend a few months ago. He was great, and I really did love him. But the more he tried to be what I needed, the more it tore our relationship apart.”

            A minute passes. Then two. Almost three before Keith speaks again. He must need as much time as Shiro to recompose himself. “Sounds like there are more exotic elements in your sex life then,” he laughs breathlessly.

            “Exotic enough that my therapist sent me to a BDSM club because what normal person would let someone like me do the things I want to.”

            “Shiro,” Keith admonishes gently. “Sex is normal. People wanting things and having desires is normal. There’s nothing wrong with that. Giving someone what they want while also getting what you need is okay and there’s no need to torture yourself over it.” Shiro says nothing in reply, instead opting for another piece of sushi, this time tuna. The silence is broken again by Keith. “Alright. I’m game.”

            Shiro almost chokes and drops is chopsticks. He takes a drink just to make sure. “Wh- _What?_ ” Sure, he had felt that Keith would be his savior of sorts, but not this quickly. Not this easily. Shiro’s not even sure Keith is entirely aware of what he’s saying. “Keith, you haven’t even heard exactly what it takes. This isn’t something you can just jump into.”

            “Exactly. So work with me on it. I’ve never been one for a gentle lover anyway. So maybe you’re what I need too.”

 

* * *

          

            The conversations they have at the art museum are more tame. Mostly because Keith is absolutely enraptured by the art and because Shiro is entirely enraptured by him. They talk about the pieces, Keith with sophistication that comes with the knowledge of art and Shiro with the subtle humor of someone who knows nothing about it but wants to contribute anyway. They stop at what Shiro thinks looks like an abstract piece until Keith points out the floral shapes of the overlapping colors. Even on the pieces that Shiro actually understands, he asks questions just to hear Keith’s passionate voice explain them to him.

            They are looking at sculptures twisted from iron when Shiro laces his fingers with Keith’s. “You gonna show me your art someday?”

            The younger man flushes but doesn’t turn away. “Sure, but don’t expect it to be as good as any of this stuff.”

            “I’m sure that it’s great and you’re just being critical of yourself,” Shiro says through a gentle smile.

            Keith scoffs and wraps an arm around Shiro’s waist, hugging him closer. “If you can find any modern artist that isn’t critical of their own work, I’ll pay you every cent I have.”

            “I can think of a few better ways of payment.” He drops a kiss to the top of Keith’s hair and they finish making their way through the museum.

            When they leave, Shiro pauses to face the building thoughtfully. Keith doesn’t question it. With a genuine grin, Shiro looks at Keith, probably with all the admiration in the world written in his features. “You look like you belong here, you know? Like you were sculpted by the most talented hands but then got away from your creator just to run through my mind all day.” He watches as his date turns several shades of red and fights a giant smile.

            “I could say the same about you. You look like my personal Adonis.”

            It’s Shiro’s turn to blush.

            This time Shiro doesn’t hesitate to hold onto Keith while Keith expertly winds through traffic. Doesn’t bother with the helmet because he knows they’re safe and wants to listen to the sound of Keith’s heart. That night, Keith comes home with him and they watch movies to be background noise while they make out. They both have early classes, so their clothes stay mostly on their bodies. After the third movie, Shiro is sad to walk Keith to the door.

            “Text me when you get home?” he asks between kisses. His arms are wrapped around Keith’s waist and Keith is standing on his toes to meet Shiro’s lips.

            “Sure thing, mom.” Keith’s the first to break away, albeit reluctantly.

            Ten minutes later, Shiro’s phone buzzes and _‘Made it home in one piece old man,’_ is plastered on his screen.

 

* * *

 

 

            Saturday rolls around and drags because Shiro is working a double because the guy who works the morning shift called in sick. The last time he slept was Wednesday, three hours total. At least he was able to catch up on not only this week’s, but next week’s homework as well. If sleep somehow finds him within the next few days, he won’t have a homework induced guilty conscience. The pickup currently in Shiro’s care was only supposed to need a new alternator, but as he worked, he found that it needed a whole new radiator too. The owner had yelled at Shiro when he told him what the new cost of repairs would be. Had accused him of just wanting more money. It had taken everything in his sleep deprived soul to keep his cool and congenial tone. Normally, Shiro can handle any confrontation with a level head, but _three hours_ in the last four days took that ability away from him. Loosened the tight hold he kept on the aggression constantly boiling inside him.

He sighs and wipes the sweat from his forehead. He’ll need a shower when he gets home. And a very strong drink if he has anything left at his apartment after Matt crashed on his couch the other night. After another two hours he is covered in black grease, the white undershirt soaked through with sweat despite the cold weather, and his shop uniform tied at his waist. But at least the truck is done, and he can clean up the shop for the rest of his shift. As he does, he looks longingly at the Hellcat still perched high in the shop. Admires the sleek beauty. Truth be told, his boss never told him who the owner is or what repairs it needs. It just showed up one day before he did, and it hasn’t left since.

            It isn’t until he’s finally off that he sees the text from Keith. _‘Hey sexy. I get off at 12 tonight. Mind if I come by?’_

            He smiles down at the message and shoots back an affirmative, _‘Definitely would love to see your gorgeous face, so yes.’_ He doesn’t tell Keith that he hasn’t slept or that his day wasn’t particularly the best. Shiro’s favorite thing about Keith though is his timing. Any time Shiro is feeling himself lose his grip, Keith either shows up on his way to work with a cold drink or sends him a sweet, sexy, or funny text. Knowing that the man will be in his apartment later makes the drive home bearable.

            Even under the spray of water, his constant companion flares painfully. It’s not an entirely physical thing, but it’s so prominent in his mind that it makes his skin feel too tight, too hot, too itchy. It makes the air hard to breathe, his gut clench painfully around arousal he cannot indulge in.

            Shiro watches the grease wash down the drain as he lathers himself with soap. It’s a gritty soap that smells like citrus, specifically for grease, and it does wonders. Once he’s done and dried, no grease remains, and he can’t help but feel he scrubbed his shitty day away with it. He pulls on a loose pair of grey sweatpants and walks shirtless to the kitchen for a drink. His phone tells him that it’s just past eight and there’s a text from Matt which he reads as he rummages around his cabinets for rum.

            _‘Katie said she saw u at a stoplight. Apparently u have bags that could each hold a whole chicken. When was the last time u slept?’_

He chuckles at the imagery of having two chickens on his face as he pours rum and sips it straight. The couch becomes the pot in which he plants his butt while he finds something at least mildly interesting on TV. The rum warms him in a pleasant way, the buzzing burn quelling the overwhelming sensations in his body. It also does wonders for his sore feet and back. Once completely situated, he shoots Matt a response. _‘Don’t worry. I’m alright. Will find any method to put my ass to sleep tonight.’_

            The TV serves as a decent distraction until there’s a timid knock on his door. Shiro hadn’t realized how long he’d been zoning out and finding other universes within the colors and shapes he couldn’t focus on. His drink is even still half full, and his joints are stiff from how long he’d been sitting in the same position. They crackle and pop as he stands and makes his way to the door. His heart thunders in his ears because he already knows who is on the other side. Even with the slight preparation, seeing Keith still takes his breath away, makes him dizzy, and the smile he kept just for Keith makes his cheeks ache. But Keith doesn’t return the smile. Instead he cups Shiro’s cheek and runs a thumb under his eye. “When was the last time you slept?”

            The smile falls, but not completely, as he steps back so Keith can come in. “A few days,” he says shyly.

            “How many?” Keith demands, arms crossed and face stern.

            Shiro feels scolded, but even then, Keith was brighter than the sun and more beautiful than the moon. “I slept a little Wednesday night, but haven’t been able to since.”

            The stern expression falls from Keith’s face and the next thing Shiro knows, Keith’s arms are wrapped around his bare waist. The chill of the winter night clings to Keith’s riding jacket, which feels pleasant against his hot skin and the contrast makes him shiver. “I’m alright, Keith. If I can’t sleep tonight, I have a nice bottle of NyQuil with my name on it in the medicine cabinet,” he jokes, leaning his cheek down on Keith’s hair.

            Keith laughs and puts a little space between them. His arms stay securely wrapped around Shiro’s waist. “Your circles are so bad I didn’t even realize you’re not wearing a shirt.”

            The smile tugs at Shiro’s lips again and he looks down at himself. “I’m sorry. Should I go put one on?”

            There is a mischievous glint in Keith’s eye as he releases his hold and takes a seat on the couch. He even helps himself to the last of Shiro’s rum. “Nah. I think it’s more convenient this way.”

            Shiro follows him to the couch. “Convenient?”

            “Oh, yes. I may or may not have plans to get you out of those sweats too. Even if they do look sinfully amazing on you.”

            Heat crept like honey to the pit of Shiro’s stomach. Heat that matched the look in Keith’s eyes. “You mean these?” he asks coyly as he snaps the waistband at the front of his hip.

            “Mhmm,” Keith hums. “I have nowhere to be in the morning and you could really use some sleep, so what do you say? Wanna have some fun?”

            Shiro responds by closing the distance and pressing his lips against Keith’s hungrily. From the get-go, the kiss is filthy, their tongues fighting between clacking teeth and lip bites. Shiro pulls away with a particularly hard nip to Keith’s lower lip and the resulting sound went straight to Shiro’s groin. “What do you want to try tonight, baby? Want me to tie you up and be mean?” His voice is already rough. Instead of answering, Keith chases his lips, but is stopped when Shiro quickly buries his fist in the black waves and yanks. The man beneath him groans and Shiro mentally notes that Keith _really_ like his hair pulled. “Tell me what you want tonight, love, or else we aren’t leaving this couch.”

            There’s a pitiful sound in response to the threat and Keith meets his eyes. Shiro wonders just how worked up Keith was for this before coming over. “Yes,” the younger man sighs. “Tie me up and be mean.” Shiro watches his face carefully and sees the almost uncertain look in his eyes. Sees the way Keith seems to be struggling for words. “I also really um… liked when you spanked me. So can we do that again and maybe uh…” He trails off but doesn’t finish the question. Shiro’s is already beyond ready to make Keith’s perfect ass red with his handprints. He wants to be able to trace the outlines of his fingers and soothe them with his lips and tongue.

            “Yes, baby?” he prompts. “What else do you want?” His tone is soft. Comforting. “Don’t be embarrassed. Whatever it is, I promise it’s not silly.”

            Keith takes a deep breath, but then the uncertainty melts from his expression. “Well I was watching some stuff to kind of research what I could possibly be getting myself into. There was this video with spanking but also face slapping?” It wasn’t a question, but Keith still seemed shy about what he was asking for.

            “Keith,” Shiro starts. Keith shivers. “Do you want me to slap you?” Rather than using words, Keith nods slowly, watching Shiro’s expression. Shiro kisses his forehead. “If you trust me enough to do that, then I’ll be happy to try that with you.”

            Seeing as Shiro spent some time with a BDSM club, he is no stranger to slapping someone because they want it, but Keith is. Keith is new to this, to the things Shiro enjoys and needs. He stands and delicately lifts Keith into his arms. Watches as lips part to protest but silences them with his own. It works because Keith kisses him back, gentler than before as Shiro carries him to his bedroom. Once Keith is settled at the edge of the bed, Shiro crouches down to look him in the eyes. “Listen, if things get to be too much for you or you need me to slow down, we need a way of communicating that. Pick a word you want to use, and if you use it, I will stop whatever I’m doing, and I will check on you. It’s completely okay to want to stop too, okay?”

            Keith doesn’t have to speak. Shiro can see more than just the tension easing from his body. It seems like something deep and hidden inside Keith is opening up for him and Shiro smiles. He stands and goes to his closet where he keeps his more _intimate_ equipment. When he comes back, he’s holding a pair of vinyl cuffs, wide and clear except for a pleather black trim. There are two separate clasps that connect to each other and the loop on the cuffs. “Have you thought of a word?”

            “’Hippo!’” Keith laughs. “It’s my favorite animal and I sometimes still sleep with the stuffed one my dad got me when I was a kid.”

            Shiro laughs too. Even in a situation like this, Keith still manages to be this cute. “Alright, love. How about you undress yourself _slowly_ for me?” He watches as Keith’s smile fades but becomes a heated and excited expression. Watches the man tug the bottom of his t-shirt up and over his head with more lingering touches to his torso than necessary. Deft fingers tweaking at nipples before undoing the button of his pants. “Did I say to touch, baby?” Shiro asks in a low growl that makes Keith tremble ever so slightly.

            “No, sir. I just wanted to make this even better for you,” Keith apologies innocently.

            “Hmm,” he responds as Keith lays back and drags his pants down to mid-thigh with a roll of his hips. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. You look so good like this. Being good for me.” His praise earns him a shaky breath from Keith’s parted lips. Shiro lovingly unlaces Keith’s boots and places them at the end of the bed before helping him the rest of the way out of his jeans. Maybe it should surprise him that Keith isn’t wearing any type of underwear, but it doesn’t. Instead, he admires the curve of the half hard erection. “What a naughty boy you are. Have you been thinking about this all day?” He runs his hands over creamy thighs, soft to the touch, but strong beneath the softness. “About my hands all over you?”

            “I want you all over me and inside me,” Keith breathes as Shiro’s hands ghost just barely over the quickly filling erection. Shiro smirks at how hungry and raw Keith already sounds. It is music to his ears. Without a word, he herds Keith up the bed and ghosts his hands appreciatively over delicate but muscular arms. He traces kisses over the skin, up his neck, and nips softly just below his ear. Sure, he’s being sweet now, but there is always calm before a storm.

            Once Keith is beyond putty beneath him, he reaches for his wrists and makes tender work of cuffing them. “Is that too tight, love?”

            “No, it feels nice.”

            “And you remember your safe word?” Shiro asks as he raises those cuffed wrists so he can attach the clasps together behind the iron rail in the headboard. As much as he wants to get right to business, he wants Keith to enjoy himself too. He doesn’t want to scare him away. Doesn’t want Keith to feel pressured into this. This is something that he wants to Keith into so

            “Yes,” Shiro’s lover confirms airily with a nod.

            “Good.” He leans down for a searing kiss and positions himself over Keith’s waist. His thick fingers wrap easily around that slim jaw and squeeze. When he sits up, he forces Keith to meet his eyes. “Look at me. Such a pretty boy,” he murmurs lowly. “I wish you could see how fucking pretty you are for me right now.”

            The praise has Keith’s eyes fluttering shut, but Shiro’s not having any of that. He releases his hold on Keith’s jaw only to bring that same hand down across Keith’s cheek experimentally. “I said _look_ at me,” Shiro demands while simultaneously checking Keith’s face for any signs of fear or need to stop. What he finds in that expression is the exact opposite and he feels the way Keith’s dick twitches against his sweatpants. Keith’s eyes are blown wide with lust, determination, and the need for more. So once those eyelashes touch the tops of those pinkened cheeks again, Shiro slaps him a little harder. Keith’s lips part around a moan and his eyes dart to Shiro’s. “Now,” he says, steel in his voice. “I want you to keep watching me and I want you to stay still. Understand?”

            _“Yes.”_

            That answer isn’t enough for Shiro and he slaps Keith’s other cheek. “’Yes’ _what_?”

            A strangled moan is followed by, “Yes, sir!”

            Shiro rewards him with a kiss and lowers himself until he is eyelevel with his lover’s angry and leaking cock. Keith’s heated and anticipating gaze leaves heat ghosting down the back of his neck to the base of his spine. He watches as his lover’s chest heaves with heavy breaths. Watches them stop when he grips the hot length and licks from base to tip. Groans when he dips his tongue into Keith’s weeping slit and the man beneath him moans lowly. “You’re so wet for me, baby, and we’re just getting started.” He strokes him loosely as he holds his bionic arm across slender hips and revels in the desperate way Keith tries to fight his hold to chase Shiro’s hand.

            “Please,” pretty lips gasp out. “God, Shiro, _please!”_ Keith looks absolutely _desperate_ and Shiro really hasn’t done much to him. If Keith is this far gone from a few slaps and teasing, Shiro is beyond excited to see his reactions to the other things they’ll eventually get to.

            He takes the tip into his mouth and suckles on it before swallowing Keith deep into his throat. Keith’s eyes shut, and a primal sound fills the air along with the sound of metal rattling. Shiro notes the way Keith arches and presses his head deep into the pillows. He pulls off completely. Listens to whimpers of protest that has his own cock jolting hotly in his sweats. “What did I tell you about watching me?” he demands, tone and expression scolding. Keith pants and Shiro flips him onto his stomach, posing him on his knees with his hips high in the air.

            “Shiro?” Keith asks shyly, peeking over his shoulder.

            Adoringly, Shiro runs his hands over Keith’s round ass. “I thought I’d made myself clear, Keith. Is it that hard to obey such a simple order?”

            He watches Keith flounder for a response. Watches as his mouth opens and closes. There’s an expression on his face, but it’s not exactly apologetic. It’s more defiant. Before Keith can say anything, Shiro brings his hand down _hard_ across the ass cheek he was just caressing. The near deafening crack is coupled with a ragged scream from Keith’s throat. Shiro rubs a soothing hand over the quickly reddening skin. “You doing alright, love?” he asks sincerely. “Do you want to stop?”

            Keith shakes his head, his whole body shaking with anticipation and desperation. “No, sir. I’m good.”

            “Good boy,” he smirks, “Now count to ten for me.” Shiro spanks Keith and listens to how he struggles to keep count through his cries. Enjoys the way pale skin turns angry red. Feels the way Keith’s trembling legs shake the bed. Hears the way his arms pull at the cuffs. When Keith skips or repeats a number, he pauses before giving another and making his lover count right.

            By the time they reach ten, Keith’s face and voice are wet with tears. Shiro’s hand stings pleasantly and he can make out raised imprints that are outlined by white. The sheets are damp from Keith’s cock dragging and leaking against them. He makes his way up the bed to check on Keith, not wanting to flip him over. Gingerly, he takes Keith’s face in his hands and admires the beautiful mess of the man looking back at him. “You did so good for me, baby.” Keith leans into his touch and Shiro kisses his forehead. “Do you want some water before we keep going?”

            Keith licks his lips, catching drying tears as he does. “Yes please,” he says hoarsely.

            Shiro admires damp eyelashes, glazed eyes, and red cheeks. “You really are beautiful, love. Especially like this.”

            Keith whimpers again and blinks languidly. After a kiss to salty lips, Shiro gets up briefly to fetch a water bottle. When he returns, he holds the open bottle to Keith’s lips and tells him to drink. His lover obeys and drains a bit more than half the bottle. Shiro finishes the rest and loses his pants after tossing the empty bottle in the trash. Keith eyes him hungrily and Shiro notices the subtle way Keith’s hip sway enticingly. He fetches lube and a condom from the drawer and takes his place on the bed again. “You okay to continue?”

            After an affirmative nod, Shiro slicks up his fingers. Let’s them warm and presses against Keith’s entrance. Keith makes a needy sound and Shiro chuckles. He presses one in, waits for the walls to give, and adds another. He starts slow, feels the stretch as he presses deeper. Keith grunts impatiently and Shiro swats his ass. “Patience, baby. I’m gonna take my time with you.” When Keith protests, Shiro swats him again.

            He scissors his fingers and starts searching. The search is fast though, and his fingers brush against Keith’s prostate. Keith clenches around his fingers at the same time he jerks against the restraints. “Shiro… _Sir,_ please,” he moans wantonly.

            Instead of answering, Shiro smirks and digs his fingers into that spot roughly. The resulting sound is a beautiful litany of moans and swears. Shiro pick up the pace, curling his fingers into that spot with each thrust and Keith flattens himself against the bed, raising his hips higher.

            “A-ah! Sh… Sir! _Fuck!_ M-more!”

            “Such a filthy mouth on you, baby,” Shiro says easily, slowing his fingers. He opts for just lightly grazing that spot and Keith lets out a frustrated growl. When he pulls his fingers out, Keith hisses, and Shiro returns three.

            Shiro’s lover thrusts back against the digits and Shiro devours the sight. “I could do this all night. You have no idea how sexy you look like this. So needy and loud. So good for me, Keith.” He curls his fingers into that bundle of nerves again harshly and Keith trembles around his fingers with a yell.

            Grey eyes widen and fingers completely still. “Did you… Did you just cum, Keith?”

            He receives no response, so he reaches for Keith’s cock. Lo and behold, there are small puddles of cum from where Keith’s cock spurted. “Fuck, _baby,_ ” Shiro wonders aloud in amazement. “God you’re so fucking amazing.” Keith hums contently and Shiro withdrawals his fingers. Eagerly, he tears open the condom and rolls it over his own painfully hard erection. “I’m still not done with you though.” He moans as he slicks himself up. Keith responds with a weak moan of his own but raises his ass higher. “Greedy little thing you are,” he tells Keith as he lines himself up and presses in easily.

            Keith shudders around him and pulls him deeper. Together, they get Shiro fully seated within those warm walls. He groans, and Keith pleads, “Please fuck me, sir.”

            The pace Shiro sets is hard and fast and punishing. With each thrust, he fucks deeper, groaning loudly as Keith fills the room with his pleasured screams. Surely, the neighbors will hate them in the morning, but neither care.

            “Use me, use me,” the younger begs between cries and Shiro is happy to oblige. He angles his hips and Keith’s thighs shake. The headboard thumps loudly against the wall and Shiro grips black tresses tightly between his filthy fingers. When he yanks, Keith is silenced midscream and the way he stills and tightens tells Shiro all he needs to know. “Fucking amazing,” he chuckles breathlessly. He buries himself a few more times before he hurdles over the edge with a loud moan, filling the condom when he’d much rather be filling Keith and painting those velvet walls with his seed.

            He pants against Keith’s shivering spine, pressing sweet kisses periodically. Both are silent aside from their loud breathing. Once his lungs are no longer aching, he pulls out and Keith whines from overstimulation. “Let me get some more water and then we’ll take a bath, okay?”

            “Mmh,” Keith agrees tiredly, sagging into the mattress.

            Shiro reaches up and unclips the cuffs. Limp arms fall to the bed and Shiro makes quick work of freeing Keith’s wrists. He massages them with his fingers and tender kisses before rolling Keith onto his back away from the mess. As he takes in his lover’s thoroughly fucked out and tired appearance, his heart swells in his chest. He was never one to believe in love at first sight, but fuck if Keith hadn’t been doing shit to his heart as soon as Shiro laid eyes on him.

            He grabs another water bottle and dumps the condom in his trash. “Drink this,” he says softly. “I’m going to start the bath.” Keith obediently takes the water bottle with shaky hands and Shiro find himself walking to the bathroom with jelly knees. He laughs softly in amusement as he wonders how useless Keith’s legs will be if his own were like this.

            The tub is full and steaming once he’s done and he goes back to collect Keith who he finds to be already sleeping. “Come on, baby,” he says to him gently as he lifts him into his arms. Keith stirs and presses his face into Shiro’s neck. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”

            While in the bath, Shiro cleans them both up and massages the stiffness from Keith’s neck and shoulders. “You did so good, Keith,” he whispers into his ear. “I wish you could have seen yourself. You’re so amazing. How do you feel?”

            “Great. Sore.” Keith’s voice is rough and Shiro takes pride in being the one to cause it. “If that is what ‘barely getting started’ is, I can’t wait until I find out what happens next.”

            Shiro laughs and runs his hand over Keith’s chest. “All in good time, Keith. For now, we’re going to dry off. I’m going to put some balm on that ass of yours. I’m going to change the sheets and then we’re going to sleep.”

            “Do you think you’ll actually be able to?” There’s a hint of worry coloring that raspy voice and Shiro closes his eyes.

            The exhaustion he feels is bone deep, but he feels like he could definitely fall asleep right here in the tub. “I have no doubt about it, Keith. Thank you.” It’s an honest answer, especially since the fire under his skin, for the first time in a long time, is completely silent.

            True to his word, Shiro gets them dried off and into clean sheets where he soothes Keith’s ass with healing balm. He can still feel finger shaped welts even in the dark and he smiles to himself. Once he’s done, Shiro pulls the younger man to his chest and wraps himself protectively around him.

            For the first time in nearly four days, Shiro sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've seen people somehow prove that Keith is from somewhere other than Texas or Arizona, but I'm fond of the Texan headcanon because I've been living in this shithole state for like 16 years now and I just wanna feel connected with my boi.  
> Find me on twitter, pals: @pack_of_keefs


	3. Searing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long because life is a bitch.  
> I hope none of you actually look into education requirements because they gave me one hell of a headache,  
> Also, S+K's age gap is hella non-canon because I'm almost pretty sure Shiro would already be graduated? But after s8, canon doesn't exist lol.  
> Anyway, chapter title is from a bop by Imaginary Ambition and this chapter is in Keith's POV.  
> (I gave tf up on indenting my paragraphs and this bitch hella unedited.)

Keith is the first to wake and he is gifted the sight of Shiro’s mussed hair and slightly parted lips. He refrains from meeting them with his own and just watches contently the slow rise and fall of Shiro’s chest. Refrains from tracing the scar across the bridge of a perfectly structured nose. Really, all of Shiro is perfect and beautiful. Keith used to think that it was unfair that someone so supernaturally pretty actually inhabited the same plane of existence. Used to think that there was no way.

As he watches Shiro get the sleep he deserves more than anything, Keith thinks back to the first time he laid eyes on him.

 

It started in Slav’s class. An unfortunate requirement for his degree. The class itself wasn’t bad—the unfortunate part was that Slav was the only professor qualified to teach it. His course was the most dreaded by anyone pursuing the field of aerospace engineering. So on his first day, Keith showed up, broodier than usual, and sat in one of the higher rows.

He remembers thinking that he could handle anything the class could throw at him. Remembers sitting there hyping himself up as he burned his throat with coffee he only drank black when he was going into something intimidating.

No amount of hyping could prepare him for seeing Shiro for the first time. For the blinding smile and words of encouragement Shiro gave him when he answered a question right that left Keith’s lungs bound in rebar. Nothing could have prepared him for looking forward to a class that whooped his ass bad enough to make dropping out look tempting.

Once, Shiro had complimented him for his enthusiasm for the class and then commended him for his exceptional grades. It was only in passing, but it was enough for Keith’s brain to short circuit and the only response he could manage was an unintelligent grunt. Keith chuckles at the memory because the only thing he was enthusiastic about was seeing Shiro. Even back then, the man was all that occupied Keith’s mind and who Keith doodled parts of religiously in his notes.

He remembers every brief interaction with the ever busy TA. He remembers being sad that when the class ended, Keith didn’t have a reason to stare at Shiro anymore. No other way to see him.

Except he did sometimes around campus. For a while, he’d catch glimpses of Shiro and his boyfriend who Keith learned was named Adam. Until one day, he never saw them together again. For a while Shiro looked so sad and even Keith would miss seeing them nestled up with each other and studying in the library because in moments like those, at least Shiro was happy. No matter how slightly jealous he was watching them share affectionate touches and small kisses in the caf, Keith would much rather see Shiro smiling and that light in his eyes. Eventually though, Shiro seemed happy again without Adam. Would smile freely and openly. Would laugh a laugh that sounded like it belonged to an angel. Keith would see him with his headphones in and studying with an apple caught between his lips. He’d see him throwing a football with Matt and a few of the guys. Catch glimpses of him in the cafeteria. Hell, he’d even see him at the gym and avoid going while Shiro was there so he wouldn’t embarrass himself. And each time Keith saw him, that feeling would bloom in his chest again.

Pidge tried to convince him once to let her scheme up an “accidental” meeting when she learned the object of Keith’s lovesickness was no other than Matt’s best friend since high school. From Pidge, Keith learned that Matt and Shiro were on the varsity football team together. Shiro was a senior and Matt a junior at the time.

And then the party happened a few months later. Pidge and Matt were acting especially suspicious and Lance was rambling a lot, so Keith automatically knew something was up. Hunk surprisingly was the best at keeping secrets in the group other than Keith.

 

Thinking back on it now, he thinks he should probably thank them and buy them pizza or something.

In his sleep, Shiro murmurs unintelligibly and his brow furrows slightly before he relaxes and nuzzles into Keith’s side. Gently, Keith runs his fingers through Shiro’s hair and the sleeping man relaxes even further with a sigh.

 

The day after the party, he was bombarded with questions as soon as he got home. He had barely dropped his keys in the dish by the door before he was ambushed by Pidge and Lance who had knowing looks on their faces. Keith regretted giving Pidge a spare key to his apartment. “So,” Pidge started. “I can see by the hickeys on your neck that you and Shiro got to know each other better.”

Lance snickered behind her and Keith pushed them both off. “But of course, Pidge,” Lance teased. “Why else would our curfew abiding broody boy stay out all night and come home in a shirt that is _clearly_ not his? Jesus, Keith! How does it feel to swim without even being in water because that thing is _huge_ on you!”

Keith continued ignoring them and went to start a load of laundry until Lance whooped aloud, “Oh, man! Is that a limp I see?”

“Lance! Shut the fuck up!”

The duo hollered in laughter and he heard a crash which he was pretty sure was Lance falling into a side table. Served him right.

 

This time, when Keith laughs at his not-distant-enough memories, the vibration of his chest wakes Shiro who peeks up at him with a tired smile. “Morning, sleepy head,” he greets the man.

Shiro groans in response and stretches. Keith finds himself transfixed by the arch in that muscled and marked up back. “What are you laughing at so early in the morning, babe?”

Keith’s heart seizes and sores at the pet name and he looks at the clock. “Actually, it’s about to be one in the afternoon and I’m laughing at Pidge and Lance’s dumbassery.” He watches Shiro’s eyes widen in shock, the tiredness immediately leeched from his eyes.

“Almost one? I slept that long?”

“Yeah. By the way, you have a slight snore,” Keith jabs as he traces fingers up Shiro’s side. When Shiro rolls onto his back, he runs his fingers just as lightly over Shiro’s stomach instead.

“Wow, Keith. I can’t remember the last time I slept that long.” He stares at the ceiling in bewilderment until Keith drops a kiss onto his forehead.

“Glad to be of service.”

“And about the dumbassery?” Shiro asks with a smile and bright eyes.

Keith feels himself flush red from his hairline to his chest and he coughs around another laugh. “A while back, I gave Pidge a key to my apartment so she could feed Kosmo if I was working weird schedules. When I got home the morning after the party, her and Lance were waiting for me and gave me endless shit for leaving the party with you.”

“Good shit or bad shit?” The question sounds insecure, but there’s a glint in Shiro’s eyes that tells Keith his cocky ass just wants more details.

“Hmmm… Well. Apparently I had a slight limp according to Lance. I guess he wasn’t wrong. And Pidge joked that you mark territory more religiously than a dog in a new neighborhood.” Saying it aloud to Shiro felt weightier than he expected it would. Sure, they go on dates and bang, but is Keith Shiro’s territory? Not in the creepy controlling way; Shiro has never told Keith anything remotely close to alarming in that respect. But do they solely belong to each other?

Keith realized long ago when Shiro gave him his test back and their eyes met, when the eye contact caused his world to stop, that his heart had leapt into those very capable hands without his permission. Keith has known for a long time that he was Shiro’s if Shiro ever wanted him that way. Their relationship is still relatively new, so it’s still hard to feel out whether or not Shiro wants the same things.

Shiro notices the change in Keith’s demeanor and slides a sleep warm hand up his thigh. “What’s on your mind now, baby?” He sounds concerned, but when Keith looks up and meets his gaze, he’s overwhelmed with how fucking delicious Shiro looks in the morning. He doesn’t want to ruin the moment so he drapes himself over that broad chest and inhales deeply. Already, Keith associates Shiro’s scent with that of home.

“Nothing important. Just still half asleep I guess. You know you look absolutely tantalizing in the morning though? Who needs breakfast when they’re sharing a bed with you?”

Shiro laughs and puts his arm around Keith’s waist. “You flatter me. But after all our calorie burning last night, I think we both need to eat.”

Immediately, Keith grins at him and slips slowly from the warm embrace. He slides down Shiro’s body and disappears under the comforter. “But first,” he announces as he grips Shiro’s morning wood in his hands, “I’m hungry for something else.”

If Shiro has any protests, they die on his lips when Keith takes the thick cock between his own.

 

* * *

 

Keith walks into the kitchen from brushing his teeth and washing his face and is greeted by the sight of egg sandwiches on the counter. Shiro has his back towards him and is pouring coffee. After the first time Keith stayed over, Shiro had learned the exact way he prefers his coffee. It’s touching, even more touching that Shiro is currently making it exactly. When Keith presses himself against Shiro’s still bare back, Shiro turns and hands the cup to him with a proud smile on his face.

For a second, Keith’s heart definitely forgets what the fuck it was put in his body to do.

“Since we both have the day completely to ourselves, I figured we could spend it together. So what do you wanna do today, Keith?” Shiro asks after leaning down to drop a kiss on Keith’s lips.

Keith thinks about it as he takes a sip of coffee and settles on a barstool. He pulls a plate closer to himself and takes a bite. The flavors play over his tongue and he realizes how hungry he actually is. Shiro may be a shit cook, but the man can whip up some award worthy pancakes and egg sandwiches. From both personal experience and their texts, Keith knows that outside of those and microwave meals, Shiro is a shit cook. “Usually when I have a day off, I take Kosmo to the park. Nothing makes that little shit happier than chasing birds and his own ass,” Keith laughs. “So we can definitely start off with that. He probably needs to go out anyway. He hasn’t been out since like ten last night when Pidge let him out.”

Shiro smiles fondly around his own bite. “Are you saying I finally get to meet the ever-mysterious wolf-dog that could probably legally qualify as your actual son? Hell yes.”

They eat and Keith watches videos on his phone while Shiro showers. Keith can’t help but notice how comfortable the domesticity is and how happy it makes him. It’s like a bubble waiting to burst in his chest. Never in a million years did he ever think that having this with Shiro, no matter how new, would be possible. While in class, Shiro always felt a million miles untouchable no matter how fixed Keith already was in his orbit. Now that he has Shiro, everything with him feels so natural. Even delving into sexual acts Keith has never had the opportunity to explore feels to Keith like breathing for the first time.

He almost jumps when Shiro puts a hand on his shoulder and Keith realizes he’s been staring blankly at a replay button on his screen. “Ready to go?” Shiro asks and there’s a smugness to his tone that almost sounds like he knew exactly what Keith was thinking.

Keith stands and stretches. “Yeah. Let’s go spoil my puppy dog.” After Keith collects his things and laces up his boots, they’re out the door.

The drive is short and they honestly could have walked if it weren’t for the fact that Kosmo’s favorite park is further out of town. Shiro asks him how he usually gets Kosmo there if all he has is his bike. Keith explains that he usually just borrows someone’s car. Once they reach Keith’s apartment, Keith levels Shiro with a serious look. “Listen, Kosmo’s a good boy. He just gets super excited about meeting new people, so I apologize in advance if he knocks you over a time or two.”

Like the total dork he is, Shiro flexes his abs and slaps them hard. “Don’t worry about me. I think I’m built and prepared to withstand a tsunami.” To that, Keith laughs and shrugs as he slides the key in the lock.

Shiro eats his words as soon as they step past the threshold. Kosmo is standing over and sniffing Shiro who is on his back and clearly startled by the quick change in elevation. “I’d hate to say I told you so,” Keith teases, “but I definitely told you so.” He steps past the pair and drops his key in the bowl. “Kosmo,” he commands. “ _Off.”_

The dog has the gall to stare back at Keith for a solid three seconds, tongue hanging out and dripping drool, before obeying. Keith tells him he’s a good boy and delivers well deserved pets and love as Shiro dusts himself off with a laugh. “He must be a helluva lot stronger than a tsunami.”

Kosmo’s owner smirks. “Nice excuse for getting knocked on your ass. You have drool on your shirt by the way, and it’s not mine.”

Shiro looks down at himself and groans dramatically before joining Keith in spoiling the dog with attention. “Nice to meet you Kosmo, I’m Shiro.” Kosmo barks excitedly and drags his wet tongue up the side of Shiro’s face. Both men laugh and Shiro wipes his face on Kosmo’s neck. “Dog, that is disgusting and you can have _all_ of that back.”

In many ways, Kosmo is like a son for Keith. Kosmo is also the reason Keith is able to get out of bed on his harder days when the weight of everything is too much. When he gets stuck in the rut of dwelling on how fair it is that his parents were stripped away from him, when he feels overwhelmingly alone despite having such quality friends, Keith struggles with taking care of himself. Kosmo gives him a reason to get up on those days. Making sure Kosmo’s needs are met gives Keith the sense of being needed and makes those days easier for him. Watching Shiro and Kosmo get along so nicely makes his heart soar.

“Wanna go to the park, boy?” Shiro asks the dog. Keith watches as Kosmo jumps, tail thumping everything within its reach, and races for the door.

“I just have to grab a few things to take with us if you think you can manage getting him in the car?”

Keith admires the fact that there’s no fear in Shiro’s face when he nods and takes the leash Keith offers him. Loves it when Shiro clips it expertly to Kosmo’s collar and confidently leads him to the door. He watches them descend the steps until he can no longer see them and quickly gathers a few toys, shit bags because he’s a responsible owner, and food and water as well as the bowls he usually takes to the park with them. He even grabs treats because he knows Kosmo will want to show off to Shiro. Everything goes in a backpack which he leaves by the door before he quickly changes into fresh clothes.

He knows it’s unfair to Shiro when he puts on his black sports leggings. The ones with the sewn in designs that accentuate his legs and cut off just above his ankles. Knows it’s murderous when he slips into a shirt he borrowed from Shiro the morning after the party and was too lazy to change out of before coming home. Wonders how Shiro will react when he ties his hair up and trades his boots for a pair of running shoes which are a necessity because Kosmo loves to race.

It’s with a smug smirk that Keith scoops up his bag and keys, locks the door, and walks down to the car. His effort is rewarded when Shiro sees him and his jaw slightly hangs. When Keith shoos Kosmo to the back seat and climbs in, Shiro tries and fails to form words. “You having a stroke there, big guy?” he asks innocently. He gets quick, “nope,” and the start of the ignition as a response.

Keith rattles off directions and catches Shiro openly staring multiple times. In the back, Kosmo is drooling all over the upholstery, but Shiro is clearly too distracted to care. The man clears his throat and he grips the wheel tighter. “Maybe I should let you run off with a few more of my clothes because this is really doing something for me,” Shiro muses, waving at Keith’s attire before settling that hand on Keith’s thigh.

“Careful, I might run off with most of them and hold them for ransom.” The possessive hand on his thigh is both comforting and thrilling.

“I’d just buy more so you can steal however many you want and I still have a functioning wardrobe.”

Keith tries to imagine it. His own closet and drawers filled with mostly Shiro’s clothes while Shiro’s own closet is left bereft. It brings a smile to his face. “I’d say you could steal mine, but I think you’d rip anything you tried on.”

“As if they’re not already ripped,” Shiro chuckles in a way that makes his eyes crinkle around the corners.

“You get the point, loser. Nothing of mine would fit any part of you.” Though maybe it would be hot as fuck to watch the material strain around Shiro’s bulging muscles. It would definitely be hot as fuck to watch the threads give out and leave Shiro’s assets exposed.

“I dunno,” Shiro drawls out. “I think your ass fits my dick just fine.” He squeezes Keith’s thigh playfully when Keith swats his arm. “Those leggings are really doing something for me too. They look almost as good as they would on my floor.”

Keith can’t help the sputtering laugh at the cheesy pick up line. “I think you’re drooling as much as Kosmo is.”

At the mention of his name, Kosmo turns his attention from the window and nudges himself into the space between them. Drool winds up sliding down Shiro’s arm but Shiro refuses to move it. “You’re lucky I’m washable, mutt,” he tells the dog instead and turns where Keith tells him to.

“I mean, you’re definitely showering before anything less than innocent.”

“Oh yeah? Got plans, Keith?”

Keith shrugs nonchalantly. He doesn’t have plans per se, but it would be a big waste to get Shiro this riled up just by wearing clothes and not help them both wind down with said clothes strewn about the floor. He points the park coming into view and Kosmo starts pacing the back seat excitedly. When they actually pull into a parking spot, the dog goes absolutely nuts, whining and barking and pawing at the door to be let out. Sighing and shooting an apologetic look at Shiro, the dog’s owner climbs out and releases Kosmo who darts for the park. Had he been less trained, Keith would be worried.

He turns to grab the bag only to see that Shiro already has it slung over his shoulder and is waiting for him in front of the car. With that airy feeling that stifles his lungs, he shuts his door and meets Shiro with an offered hand. Shiro takes it. “Are you ready for this?”

“For playing with your rambunctious dog? Of course, but you might need to give me mouth to mouth if I pass out from exhaustion,” Shiro jokes with a lazy smirk.

“I’m not quite sure that’s how exhaustion works,” he laughs in reply. Laughing with Shiro is easy. Far easier than laughing has ever been in his whole life. Suddenly, Keith is hit with a small sadness. His parents will never get to meet this amazing man. His dad will never get to see his son laugh this way. His mom, whoever and wherever she is, will probably miss this part of Keith growing up as she did with everything else in his life. Other than Kosmo, Keith doesn’t have anybody to take Shiro home to meet. Not even the people from the homes Keith lived in until he was old enough to be on his own. He never kept in touch. Never looked back after he left.

Shiro leads him deeper into the park where Kosmo is, as expected, barking at birds between bouts of chasing his own tail. Keith takes the backpack and rummages through, searching for the frisbee he brought even though Kosmo sucked at bringing it back. “Alright,” he announces at no one but Shiro. Kosmo hears and perks at the sight of the disk, waiting for Keith to throw it. “Usually when I bring this, it turns into a tug of war because the damn dog refuses to bring it back.”

“So he is essentially that meme about the dog that says, “No take, only throw,”?”

“That is _exactly_ how he is,” Keith says gravely. Kosmo, ever impatient, plops down in front of Keith and stares pointedly at the frisbee. Keith relents and sends it flying far down the field. Shiro whistles appreciatively at the distance and Kosmo races to catch it. But then the dog does something completely unexpected when he returns with it not even a minute later.

The traitor drops it on the ground. In front of _Shiro._

Shiro bends to pick it up as Keith, sounding as betrayed as he feels, exclaims at Kosmo, “Kosmo, what the actual fuck, dude?” Shiro looks at Keith with a smug expression and shrugs before throwing the frisbee again, further than Keith did before.

Keith looks at Shiro. “I’ve been trying to get him to do that for _years_ ,” he whines. “He’s never done it for me, but not even an hour into knowing you, and suddenly he fucking brings it to you. God, I feel so betrayed!” Exasperated, he hits his knees before flopping face down in the grass.

Kosmo ignores him and again, drops the frisbee in front of Shiro who throws it again. Keith groans into the grass that tickles his face.

“Baby quit being so dramatic,” Shiro laughs.

Keith turns a heated glare at the man who simply ignores it and sits on the grass next to him. “Well since he likes you so much, you can race him. I’ll just take a nap while you two lovebirds get to know each other better.” He receives a playful smack to the ass for the quip.

“Such a drama queen. Only one here I’m trying to be lovebirds with and get to know better is you. Besides, I think I know Kosmo enough by now. We’re best of bros.”

The sentiment breaks through Keith’s pity party and his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s smiling. He reaches over and takes Shiro’s hand, his right one, and feels the cool metal between his fingers and under his palm.

“You gonna ask what happened?” Shiro doesn’t sound nervous. He doesn’t even look upset. Just genuinely curious about Keith’s level of curiosity.

“Only if you feel like telling me.”

The man shrugs and watches as Kosmo returns. He throws again and watches him disappear. “When I was little, my parents and I were on our way back from the movie theater. We lived kind of out of town and the roads were wet from the rain. A drunk driver veered into our lane and sent our car spinning off the road.” Keith listens with rapt attention and bated breath as Shiro continues. “I was somehow ejected from the car. I passed out at some point, so I don’t know what I hit or where I landed. But when I woke up a week later, I was missing my arm and my face was wrapped in bandages. Both my parents were pretty banged up. My dad broke his leg and got a gnarly cut on his forehead. My mom broke her collarbone and a few ribs. They never did find my arm.”

Shiro’s expression is even, but his eyes look faraway. Keith pulls the prosthetic hand closer and kisses each of the knuckles until Shiro looks at him. “I’m glad you all made it out alive.”

“Me too, baby.”

Kosmo drops the frisbee in front of him again, panting hard and mouth lacking drool. It breaks the men out of their saddened reverie and Keith almost gets up to search for the water and bowls, but Shiro is already digging in the backpack and pulling them out. He watches as he one handedly opens the bottle and fills the bowl. Watches as Kosmo laps up water greedily. It’s then that Keith thinks Shiro would be excellent with kids if he ever wanted them. Thinks Shiro would be a great dad if that’s the life he wanted. Keith has never thought of thought of it for himself. Couldn’t with the way his own life has been going. It has always been hard to imagine himself with kids in his arms or following him around. But imagining Shiro with kids is so easy. The brilliance of the mental image almost hurts.

Once the bowl has been emptied, Kosmo returns to the middle of the field where two birds have gotten comfortable in his absence. The raven haired man watches them fly off hurriedly while Kosmo tries jumping high enough to catch one in his quick jaws. The quietness is softly broken when Shiro asks, “So how did you get into aerospace engineering?”

Keith smiles as the question brings up fond memories of camping with his dad. He can still almost feel the heat of the fire licking at his face while his dad smoothed his hair. His eyes close as he feels a ghost of those calloused and strong hands stroking down his hair and back. “Before my dad died, we would watch and read the news reports, waiting for meteor showers or anything that happened with the night sky that didn’t happen every day. Every time, we would load up in his truck and go out into the middle of the desert to watch. Usually they turned into overnight trips and I’d be dead in class the next day, but as long as I kept my grades up, we could keep going.

That was how my love of stars was born. Once my dad let slip that my mom was a pilot. He’d never say what. He refused to elaborate or admit that he’d told me. I guess whoever she worked for, everything they did was confidential. But I remember going up in the attic and snooping through a lot of dad’s old things. Wherever she went, she left a box behind. In it were drawings for aircraft designs that I’d never seen before. My dad busted me before I could really figure out if they were for spacecrafts or typical aviation. Either way, ever since that day, I’ve wanted to design a ship that will take me and whoever else out to explore space. What about you?”

Keith lets the memories retreat to the recesses of his mind and opens his eyes to see that Shiro is staring at him with awe.

“Well, my story isn’t nearly as touching as yours. My grandpa religiously kept tabs on the moon landing and anything space related. Whenever someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I’d tell them I didn’t know. One day I jokingly told someone that I wanted to be an astronaut and it all just clicked.” Shiro takes a deep, shuddering breath and buries his fingers in the grass. Keith catches him staring down at the metal hand, an almost hateful yet resigned look in his eyes “After my accident, I knew I’d never get a clear bill of health, so I figured if I can’t fly a spacecraft, I could just build them and help somebody else live out our shared dream.”

The ache in Keith’s heart is icy. He feels a rage in the pit of his stomach at the fact that somebody as pure as Shiro had his dreams ripped away from him. His jaw hurts sharply from how hard his teeth are grinding together. Keith sits up abruptly and with the confidence of a man in love, because nothing is more powerful than that, stares into Shiro’s eyes and declares, “When I build my ship, you can go on every trip with me. Explore every corner of our galaxy and beyond with me. Anyone who objects gets shoved out of an airlock specifically designated for people who try to take that away from you.”

Shiro chuckles in disbelief, but there is a watery smile splitting his face. He leans in close to Keith, brushes his nose against his when they share the same air. “If anybody can do it, baby, it’s you.” Then the distance is closed and their kiss is both tender and searing, setting Keith’s nerves on fire and sending gentle waves of heat all the way through his fingers and toes. The breeze that had been rustling the trees and the grass melts away and Keith’s entire world is engulfed until there is nothing but _Shiro_ who is tenderly holding the back of his neck. Parting his lips. Tasting his tongue. Sighing into their kiss.

When Keith shifts closer to deepen it, the world starts spinning again because he feels a long, wet tongue that decidedly does _not_ belong to Shiro dragging across his cheek. They break apart, laughing wetly as if they were both overwhelmed with enough emotion to sting their throat with unshed tears. Kosmo looks at them expectantly and both reach to pat his head. The dog whines at Keith and Keith stands. “I didn’t wear these shoes for nothing,” he tells his fur son. “Hey, Shiro. Wanna race?” He stretches and gives his best competitive smile at the man.

“I mean, I’m sure Kosmo is gonna smoke us both, but between you and me? Loser buys lunch.” Keith notices that when Shiro is propositioned with a competition, the man glows from within and exudes an intimidatingly confident air.

No matter. Keith has never lost a race before.

The trio lines up. Tries to at least. As soon as the men are taking their starting stances, Kosmo races off. The dog barks happily and their feet start flying on the grass. For the first stretch of the field, Keith is ahead, but only by a few paces. He allows his long legs to carry him as far and as swiftly as he’s trained them to do. He takes a smug satisfaction at making it halfway and still in the lead. Once they pass the tree with warped branches befitting of a horror film, the pair are neck and neck. Keith picks up the pace, but so does Shiro. Oddly, it feels to Keith like Shiro gave him a slight heads start and he feels a bit cheated. He’ll get Shiro back for it later. By the time they reach the end of the field, Shiro is more than a few paces ahead of Keith and Keith feels the loss in his wallet.

Shiro gracefully waits that final second and a half for Keith with a shit eating grin that even though he just lost, Keith wants to kiss off his face. “Where the hell did that come from? You were so slow to start I was sure I had you!” He wraps his arms loosely around Shiro’s neck and rests against him.

“I was all-state running back three years in a row,” the man shrugs nonchalantly. But Keith isn’t fooled; he feels the way Shiro’s chest puffs out in pride against his own.

“Yeah, what? Eighty years ago?” Keith cackles.

Shiro jabs his flesh fingers in the space beneath the smaller man’s ribs in retaliation. “ _No_ , only like five.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, because that makes it _so_ much better. If you were so good a century ago, why aren’t you playing now?”

“So it’s a century now, huh? You little shit, I’m only three years older than you” Shiro snickers. “I never got scouted. Guess they were too intimidated by me being a winter soldier. Kept the body for it though. Think I even made some improvements after I stopped partying so much and quit living off bread.”

“Did you just… Bucky is way cooler than you.”

“But who’s hotter?”

“Still Bucky.”

Despite winning the bet, Shiro pays for lunch and even shares with Kosmo.

 

* * *

 

Shiro plays with Keith’s loose bun while they cuddle up on Keith’s tiny couch with Kosmo laying over their feet. They’re watching a baking show and while Shiro expresses his awe at the displayed techniques, Keith scrunches up his nose and explains that Hunk would put them all to shame. It’s late and Keith’s first class is early in the morning, but he asked Shiro to stay the night. Keith slept better with Shiro next to him. The man is warm and sleeping next to him is comforting because Keith doesn’t feel alone. Plus he likes having Shiro’s scent so close; loves when he’s going about his day and catches whiffs of him on himself.

Shiro has work in the morning and a class in the evening. After Keith’s classes, he has work until 3am. They won’t get to see each other after they part ways in the morning, and Keith already feels the loss. So tonight, as they’ve done all day, they bask in each other’s presence. Fuel up on their time together to get through the following day. Briefly, he wonders if it will always be like this, or if it’s just like this because their relationship is new. He wonders if any amount of time will be enough time with Shiro, or if this reluctance to be apart will always be present. Wonders if he’ll always be able to laugh so openly with him, if sleeping next to him will always be so addicting, if the lack of Shiro’s touch will always leave him feeling colder. He wonders if Shiro will be there for his bad days, even if there’s nothing that will drag Keith out of the frigid recesses of his mind.

He feels a kiss against his temple that drags his attention from the blurred colors on TV he’s been so intently focusing all his thoughts into. “We don’t want to sleep on the couch, love. Let’s go to bed.”

This will be the first time Shiro sleeps in Keith’s bed. The first time they stay at Keith’s apartment instead of Shiro’s. “Alright.” He turns the TV off and shoos Kosmo from his feet. “I hope you don’t mind though, my bed’s a size smaller than yours.” Keith’s first two paychecks and a month’s worth of tips went into upgrading from a twin to a full size bed. It was one of his proudest purchases.

“Just means I get to hold you closer, babe, and I definitely don’t mind that.”

Heat rises to Keith’s cheeks and he stands so Shiro can get up. “Cheesy,” he comments simply, even if the cheesy reply has his heart swimming. “I have to walk Kosmo before bed, but you’re more than welcome to go ahead. I’ll join you when I’m done.”

But Kosmo looks between the two and with a whine, nudges at Shiro’s thigh.

“Kosmo,” Keith admonishes softly. “You can’t just demand him to walk you. Let the man go to bed.”

Shiro’s laughter rumbles in his chest and there’s affection in his eyes when he looks down at he dog. “It’s fine. I can take him. I’m sure he likes me enough to behave.”

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to. I can go with you?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You were complaining earlier about a shower anyway, so go shower. I’ll take care of the mutt.” Shiro’s already sliding his shoes back on and grabbing the leash as the talks.

Keith stops him, but only to give him a chaste kiss. “You really are a saint.”

A few minutes later when the hot water is cascading down his back, he realizes the irony of calling Shiro a saint when the man is an absolute devil in bed. Realizes that, though contradictory, both are facts. Everything about Shiro is patient and kind and selfless. He works so hard at everything he does and excels. His kindness extends to anyone and everyone. No one feels unwelcomed around him. He would give the shirt off his very back and every cent in his wallet if it meant bettering someone else’s situation.

In the bedroom, Shiro is still patient, but the kind of patient that is undeniably torturous for whoever is at the other end of it. His kindness is warped into filthy praise and the deliverance of pleasurable pain. His selflessness only exists out of selfishness. The man will give and give and give pleasure, but only because he thrives on the control of giving it. Slowly. Teasingly. In a way that breaks Keith every time because as much as he wants to be present, his body just wants to drown in the stimulation. Shiro needs to be grounded; Keith needs to fly.

They haven’t even progressed past the basic things Keith always figured he could handle and always wanted to try, but the memories of those acts, of being spanked and choked and denied until his legs shake, coupled with the knowledge that Shiro’s steadily working him up to _more_ has him hardening beneath the shower’s spray. His belly is so filled with honey like heat that the suds making slow trails down his body feel like devastating touches. The heat of the water is a poor substitute for the passionate heat Shiro effortlessly provides.

Keith knows it’s late. Knows they both have to be up early. Knows that he’ll need a shower again in the morning. But in this moment, the whole day and each realization sit low and have him achingly desperate to be filled. In this moment, Keith _needs_ Shiro.

So he quickens his shower, minding himself enough to avoid his hard cock. Shiro will do with it what he wants anyway and that’s exactly what Keith wants. He dries off, towels his hair as quickly as possible, and pads his way to his bedroom still naked.

Kosmo is there laying at the foot of the bed and cocks his head, probably sensing Keith’s unusual mood. Keith shoos him out. It’s not until he has the door shut firmly behind him that he looks at Shiro. The man is shirtless and laying only in his boxers. He has one leg fully extended, the other bent at the knee, phone in hand. Whatever he’s been scrolling through is neglected and his full attention is on Keith. Hungry eyes roam his body, but Shiro’s brow is cocked in curiosity. “Is that for me?” he asks and Keith’s knees tremble gently as he takes a step closer to that husky, gravitating voice. Then another. And another until he can climb and straddle Shiro’s lap. Shiro puts his phone aside and Keith swims in the hungry ash brown pools. Drowns in the growing black.

“I was thinking about you in the shower,” he says simply, as if it explains how consumed by lust he already is.

Shiro strokes his cheek and Keith can’t help the fact that his eyes close and he leans deeper into that touch. “You know we have to be up early, right?” Keith can feel the way the vibrations work through Shiro’s chest. Can discern that even though Shiro is stating fact, he’s just as hungry as Keith is.

“I want to ride you,” he breathes and opens his eyes lazily. Grinds himself against Shiro’s hardening length even lazier. It makes him acutely aware of how empty he is and how much closer he wants to be to Shiro. “I want you to fill me up and I want to feel you come inside me.”

Beneath him, Shiro groans and leans in closer. Their kiss starts slow, heated. They take time for gentle exploration. Soft biting of lips and tender caresses of slick tongues. When Keith feels Shiro’s cock standing proudly within its confines, Shiro wraps a hand both around Keith’s dick and around his damp hair. Those hands pull at the same time and Keith’s lips part with a shaky exhale as his throat is bared for Shiro’s teeth. The man marks Keith slowly, dragging out the flicks of his tongue and the strokes of his hand. Keith is conflicted, wanting to fuck into that warm fist but also wanting to sit atop Shiro’s cock and ride him anything but gently. “Shiro,” he whines after a particularly rough swipe over his tip. “Please.”

Shiro jerks him by the hair again so that Keith’s attention is nowhere else but what Shiro’s about to say. “I’ll let you ride me, baby. But only if you have lube and only if you do what I tell you to while you’re doing it. Is that understood?”

The authoritative tone has him leaning forward, begging for Shiro’s lips against his own again. The hand in his hair stops him. Yanks him back to his previous position. Shiro looks at him expectantly and Keith swallows. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“That’s a good boy, Keith.” That alone has Keith inhaling shakily. “Now where’s the lube? And use your words.”

He has to swallow again to get the words out, but he manages a weak, “Under that pillow.”

Shiro gives him a knowing look. “Need easy access, do you?”

“When I’m here alone, I have to do something about how bad I miss you,” he admits. Under normal circumstances, that is something Keith would never divulge. But arousal and need leave him vulnerable. Shiro’s expression softens into something not entirely readable, but still rewarding for Keith.

“I miss you too, Keith. I think about you all the time.” Shiro retrieves the lube and takes Keith’s hand. He pops the lip and pours some onto Keith’s fingers. “I want you to prep yourself for me. Slowly.” He leads Keith’s hand until Keith is reaching behind himself. Leads his fingers to his own fluttering hole. And then Shiro lets him go. Lets him do as instructed while Shiro himself leans back to watch.

Keith touches tentatively. Gives himself time to adjust to the temperature. He watches Shiro’s face as he breaches his own entrance with his middle finger. Sinks down on its slickness as his teeth sink into his lower lip. It’s an easy feat considering how aroused he is and how slender his fingers are. Especially compared to Shiro’s. “Slowly, baby,” Shiro reminds and wraps his own fingers loosely around Keith’s erection again.

He thrusts the digit at a snail’s pace. Grows accustomed to it quickly, but Keith wants to obey. When Shiro nods at him, he presses the tip of his index alongside his middle finger. The stretch is there, but not enough. Once fully seated on the two, he scissors them. Rides them gently. He moans quietly at both his own ministrations and Shiro’s. He nudges a third finger against himself and looks at Shiro questioningly and receives another nod in affirmation. This time, he meets more resistance and has to focus on seating himself on the added digit.

“Look at you, baby,” Shiro coos. “You look so starved for it, but you’re being so good for me. My good boy.”

Keith whimpers at the praise and goes in for a kiss again. This time Shiro lets him and the slide of his three fingers are easier. He spreads them inside himself and moans into the kiss. He reaches deep enough inside that he just barely grazes _there_ and the sound he makes tells Shiro so. “Shiro,” he gasps against his lips. “Please, I’m ready. Want you in me.” He’s not even sure how long he’s been opening himself up. What feels like hours could have only been mere minutes.

“Are you sure, love? You don’t want to add another one just in case?” Keith knows Shiro is only asking to tease. Knows Shiro is well aware that if it weren’t for Shiro’s instructions, Keith would already be fucking himself on Shiro’s cock. He lets out an impatient growl in protest and Shiro has the audacity to laugh. “Thought not. You can stop now.”

Keith almost sighs in relief despite the emptiness he feels when he extracts his fingers. Almost sighs because now his wait is over. Shiro lifts him slightly so he can kick his boxers to the floor and then he’s grabbing the lube again. This time he pours it into Keith’s palm and Keith knows without being told what Shiro expects of him. So he slicks Shiro up, relishes in how hot and hard the cock in his hand is. Enjoys the girth and weight in his palm. And then with Shiro’s approval, he’s pressing the tip against his eagerly waiting entrance.

He gasps at the heat against his rim. Tingles from the touch that’s not his own. Keith sees Shiro’s eyes grow darker, sees him pull his bottom lip between his teeth, sees the way he watches Keith sink down onto him. Keith feels the stretch his fingers could never give him and lets out a long, pleasured sound. “Fuck,” he breathes heavily. “You feel even bigger like this.” He’s not even halfway down and he already feels stuffed.

Below him, Shiro’s face is tight as if he’s struggling to not just thrust himself all the way in. Keith finds the man’s impatience humorous considering Shiro is the reason he’s going so slow. He plants his hands on Shiro’s ample chest and pushes himself the rest of the way down. Keith throws his head back and they moan simultaneously. As he waits to adjust, he shifts his hips just slightly and watches how even those small movements cause Shiro so squirm.

Like this, Keith feels powerful.

Even if he agreed to obey Shiro, Keith is the one that feels powerful.

“I think I like you below me like this,” he admits. The words inspire an idea, a mental image, and he clenches around Shiro. “One day soon, I wanna see what you’re like below me in a different way.” Keith rakes his nails down Shiro’s chest as he imagines it. Imagines Shiro on _his_ back for him. Keith being buried deep in him and spoiling him the way he deserves. Filling Shiro up and having those muscled thighs cradling his hips.

“Are you telling me you want to fuck me, baby?” Shiro asks and there’s more heat in his voice than before.

“Mhmm,” Keith hums as he feels his body finally give, allowing him to raise and sink back down with a lingering whine. “If you’ll let me.” He works his hips slow enough that he swears he feels every vein gliding against his walls.

Shiro groans lowly. Puts his metal hand on Keith’s hip to guide the pace. Flesh hand on Keith’s chest to tease a perked nipple. It makes Keith bite down on his lip hard. “I’d love that, Keith.” The prosthetic effortlessly lifts and drops Keith on Shiro’s cock, effectively quickening the pace.

Keith grabs the hand on his chest and pulls it towards his hair. “Pull my hair, Shiro,” he begs.

A mischievous glint shines in slate gray eyes. “I’m sorry. Want to try that again?” The authoritative tone floods that voice again and Keith’s hips stutter and ride down faster. He shouts towards the ceiling and digs his nails into Shiro’s skin.

“ _Ah!_ Sir, please pull my hair!”

“Good boy.”

Then Shiro grips a fistful of damp hair and yanks _hard._ He holds in a way that Keith’s neck is fully exposed and Shiro guides Keith’s body down to bite into the inviting flesh. Keith moans greedily. Loud. Wet. His neglected cock slides against Shiro’s hard stomach and he trembles. But then Shiro snaps his hips up and Keith yells as the tip digs into his prostate.

He’s slowly coming apart at the seams, but it thrills him to know that Shiro will be there to stitch him back together.

Keith supposes that Shiro’s given up on going torturously slow because the man holds him place and fucks his hole with a vengeance. He grinds himself down as Shiro thrusts up, eliciting constant noises from them both. “ _God,_ Shiro,” he swears when a thrust hits his prostate with acute accuracy and stars overtake his vision. “Right _—hah!_ There! Fuck, Shiro! Please, harder!” he cries into the open air while his hips beg physically.

“Shit, baby. Your ass is so fucking greedy! _Christ_ , baby,” Shiro praises as he bites and licks more possessive bruises into Keith’s neck and collarbones. “I love seeing you like this.”

He knows Shiro isn’t telling him he loves him, but the word ‘love’ still draws out a physical reaction, making Keith tighten further. If Shiro notices, he doesn’t comment. Keith feels himself teetering on the precipice of his orgasm. Feels the way his body draws into itself. Hears the way his heavy gasps speed up. Hears the whines that couple with them.

“Gonna come for me, Keith?” Shiro asks, pressing hard kisses up the column up Keith’s throat up to his ear. Keith feels the fingers tighten in his hair, demanding an answer.

“May I, sir?” He wants to so badly. He’s barely holding it back, but he _needs_ to be good for Shiro. Needs the praise like he needs air.

There’s a hum against his ear and he squeezes his thighs around Shiro’s hips, waiting for permission. “You looked so beautiful today, and you’ve been so good for me tonight. Come for me, baby.”

That’s all it takes because after only one more strike against his prostate, Keith is shaking apart in Shiro’s arms with a punched out moan. He feels his cock slide into the growing wetness on Shiro’s as Shiro keeps fucking him through it, chasing his own orgasm while Keith’s rim is spasming around his length. Shiro’s abandoned the grip in his hair and is holding Keith’s hips steady with both hands. Keith moans again weakly when he feels the searing heat of Shiro coming inside him. Shiro’s face is drawn into an expression of ultimate pleasure and Keith drops languid kisses onto those perfect features.

Keith lays his head on Shiro’s shoulder and they come down together. Shiro rubs an affectionate hand down Keith’s spine repeatedly and Keith wishes he could purr his contentment. His eyelids are heavy, but he knows they have to clean up before he can sleep. “So worth getting up earlier for another shower,” he sighs into Shiro’s neck. Shiro laughs, making Keith smile.

“I like feeling you inside me like this,” Keith tells him.

“Maybe next time I come inside you I’ll make you wear a plug so you can keep it in until I fuck you again,”

Even just the thought nearly makes Keith hard again. “Sounds like a good time,” he says tiredly.

Keith almost falls asleep and Shiro takes that as his cue to clean them up. Later when they’re curled up together, Keith falls asleep to the feeling of a gentle kiss on his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

A black turtleneck isn’t out of place this time of year, but Keith still sticks out like a sore thumb because the sweater is at least two sizes too big on him.

 

When they’d woken up, Shiro took one look at Keith’s neck and grinned. The possessiveness had heat curling lazily in Keith’s gut. “As much as I’d love to show the world you’re taken, I don’t think you want any of your instructors privy to your private life.”

Keith had slapped a hand against his neck and felt each and every bruise beneath his fingertips. “Fuck my instructors, if Lance sees these I will _never_ hear the end of it.”

So while Keith showered, Shiro drove the short distance to his own apartment and back because Keith had nothing that would cover that high on his neck.

When Keith emerged from his shower, he was greeted with the turtleneck and quickly put it on. Immediately, he was swimming in it and Shiro glanced him over appreciatively. “Too bad I don’t get to see you again today.” His tone was sad.  “Oh, I also already walked Kosmo, so you don’t have to worry about him.”

Yeah, Keith was definitely in love with this man.

They’d parted ways with a lingering kiss.

 

Keith spots Lance as soon as he walks into the class they share. With his head held high, he makes his way to his usual seat next to him. He doesn’t even have to look over to see the shit eating grin and knowing look Lance is giving him because he can _feel_ them like a demon’s fingers over his skin.

“Watcha hidin’, Keith?” Lance snickers.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted sweet Sheith ft Kosmo to soothe my broken heart, exhausted soul, and disappointment with s8.  
> Twitter's fun. Find me there @pack_of_keefs


	4. Keep Me Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, all Imma say is that depression is a whole ass bitch. I haven't given up on finishing this fic, but I really can't promise any consistency. Also, if this chapter's pacing or anything is awkward, blame my depression lmao.  
> That being said, this chapter has some bottom Shiro. But more like bottom from the top Shiro? I don't know how to explain it really, so yalls just gonna have to read it for yourselves.

_Wherever he is, it’s dark. Dark and humid and loud and the metallic tang of blood is heavy in the air._

_He’s been here before though. He knows how this goes. Knows that when they stop tugging him along, they’ll take the blindfold from his eyes and he’ll be able to see again._

_Not being able to see though is a blessing. He’s been here so many times that he knows what he’ll see once the fabric is lifted from his face._

_The hordes of humanoid creatures shouting his name, either to curse it or to praise it._

_The carnage still littered across the expanse of dirt from whatever unlucky soul was here before him._

_The next unlucky soul either cowering or parading confidently around the other side of the arena. No matter how many victories he’s met here, he always considers himself the unluckiest of souls for always having to come back._

_Shiro’s feet sink into the blood softened dirt in some places as they drag him. The scent is not the same as his own blood, it’s more acrid, but he’s done this so many times he can detect the familiar notes in the gore._

_They jerk him to a stop and he nearly trips. The chanting gets louder; so does the booing. As expected, the blindfold is removed from his eyes. The sight that greets him is that of an alien, much like the ones that keep him imprisoned here, hyping the crowd up with his back to Shiro._

How cocky of him, _Shiro thinks. In this lawless place, turning one’s back on an opponent surely means death. Sure, there is a sound that signifies the start of a fight, but it’s only used when opponents don’t start the carnage themselves and their captors grow impatient._

_The cuffs rubbing the flesh of his only human wrist raw are removed and he massages the skin with his prosthetic fingers._

_The crowd quiets._

_His opponent turns to face him finally._

_Shiro is unable to discern any specific features of his opponent from across this distance, but he is able to make out the confident and blood thirsty grin the alien wears. He takes a deep breath, takes a stance, and feels the familiar but unwelcome slight burning in his prosthetic as it illuminates its fatal violet glow. From his peripheral, he can see waves of heat radiating into the cool air._

_He never charges first. He waits his opponents out, lets them make the first move so he can analyze_ how _they move and adjust his fighting style accordingly. He shouldn’t have to wait long for this one though considering how ready the alien seems to be for this fight._

_Shiro is proven right when the alien rushes across the distance, blade drawn offensively. The man ducks to avoid the blade, whirls around to land a blow against the nape of his opponent’s neck._

_He almost makes it, almost successfully lands the hit, but at this close proximity, he can make out his opponent’s features._

_What stops his attack is the familiar locks of inky and uneven hair._

_He jerks away to a safe distance and the crowd erupts in protest. Shiro watches as the alien turns to face him. Watches as a familiar nose and set of lips and breathtaking blue-violet eyes come into view._

_He can’t stop himself from approaching, heart thundering in his ears._ “Keith?” _he asks in utter disbelief. The alien looks like Keith save for the purple hue to his skin and the markings on his cheeks. Everything else is all Keith and it’s a blow to Shiro’s heart._

_Keith’s eyes widen, then soften and grow wet. His lips tremble, and Shiro thinks he looks afraid. “Shiro?”_

_“Baby, what are you doing here?” The panic is evident in his voice and he scans the arena for any sign of threat towards either of them. “Why are you here?”_

_Keith draws nearer, looking terrified, and Shiro opens his arms for him. “I don’t know, Shiro. One minute I was at home, and the next I’m here.” He ducks his face into Shiro’s throat._

_They embrace while the audience throws a fit. He grits his teeth angrily and fights the burning in his throat and eyes. It’s one thing for him to be here, but for Keith to be here too? He’d rather die than have Keith go through what he’s been forced to do. He kisses Keith’s hair before gently pulling away so he can look him in the eye._

_“I promise I’m going to get you out of here, okay? I swear I’ll get you home. I’ll keep you safe.”_

_The trembling of Keith’s lips stop and pull into a grin. “But,_ baby _,” he mocks._

_And then Shiro feels searing heat digging in beneath his ribs._

_“I_ am _home, and neither of us are going anywhere.” Keith’s voice sounds faraway and Shiro gapes at him as he feels wet heat spread over his abdomen. Finally, he looks down at himself and sees Keith’s blade protruding from his chest._

_“Keith?” he asks again, voice dampened by the blood bubbling its way up his throat._

_The crowd erupts and Shiro hits his knees._

_Just before his vision is overtaken by black, he sees the image of his Keith melt away into something ugly and despicable; just an alien that used Keith’s face._

Shiro shoots awake, drenched in sweat, with Keith’s name on his lips and the phantom pain of a blade in his gut. Air rushes in and out of his lungs as his eyes adjust to the dark that taunts him. Even with the glow radiating from his alarm clock breaking up the blackness, he still fears sudden brightness and the vision of blood matted earth.

He reaches over and turns the lamp on, thankful that it illuminates his own room and not wherever his nightmares take him to.

Ignoring the itchy, sticky feeling of sweat drying, he grabs his phone. Even if it was Keith’s face that dealt him the fatal blow, all he wants is to hear Keith’s voice; wants to prove to his panicked and tumultuous mind that Keith was not kidnapped and is okay.

Logically, he knows that the need is an overdramatic response to his nightmare, but his heart is thundering in his ears and his head is pounding and he can’t chase away the fear. So he calls Keith, noting that it’s two in the morning and he’ll be waking up his boyfriend over a stupid nightmare.

A stupid nightmare that he still sees every time he closes his eyes. That he feels each with each labored breath.

The phone rings in his ear exactly four and a half times, each making his breath come faster and faster, until finally, they stop, and he hears shuffling on the other end. _“Shiro? Are you alright?”_

All the air in his lungs rushes out at once and his entire body sags in relief. “Sorry, I know it’s late. I just needed to hear your voice.”

_“No, it’s fine.”_ Keith’s voice is husky from sleep and Shiro feels a bit guilty. “ _What’s wrong, babe?”_ More shuffling. And the way he calls Shiro ‘babe’ is full of concern and soft with love and absolutely nothing like his dream.

“Just a nightmare.” He laughs hollowly. “It’s not even the worst one I’ve ever had. I don’t know why it’s getting to me so bad.” But it is the worst. In that place, he’s been tortured worse, killed more, been killed, used as a puppet. None of that compares to the pain of seeing Keith in that place. Of the idea that Keith had to endure what Shiro does there.

_“Do you want to talk about it?”_

Shiro rolls the kinks from his shoulders and grimaces. “Not really. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay and that I’m actually awake.”

Brief silence fills the ticking seconds before Keith’s worried voice replaces it. _“I’m fine and I can assure you you’re awake.”_ He hears Keith yawn and move again. _“If you give me—no, Kosmo, get off me—a few minutes, I can be right over.”_

It doesn’t sound like an offer or a question and Shiro feels even more guilty. “No, baby. You don’t have to do that. You need to sleep and I don’t think I can right now.”

_“Shiro, hush. Whatever it was that you dreamt, it was bad enough for you to call me in the middle of the night sounding like shit. I’ll come over and you can lay next to me while I sleep, okay?”_

“Keith,” he starts, but is cut off when Keith says, _“Just let me help you put your mind at rest, Shiro.”_

Shiro sighs and gets up to get a glass of water despite his knees feeling like water. “Okay, babe.” He listens to Keith tell Kosmo to get off him again and smiles.  “Kosmo’s welcome to come too if he wants to.”

A chuckle carries through. _“Yeah, I’ll bring him, but don’t bitch at me for all the dog hair.”_

“I don’t even bitch at you for _your_ hair, love.” They both laugh and say their goodbyes, leaving Shiro to gulp his water by the sink and ruminate on his nightmare.

He flinches at each shadow and each noise that carries into his silent apartment from the outside. His body feels frozen in place without Keith’s voice to thaw him. The air is suffocating and Shiro can almost smell the alien blood from his nightmare. It’s oppressing and stifling and cold sweat dampens his skin with each passing moment.

Not even twenty minutes later, there’s a quiet knock on the door and it rattles him to the bone. The only reason he’s able to gather himself enough to open it is the fact that he knows who will be waiting on the other side. With a deep breath, he fights his body all the way to the door.

Even at two in the morning, with wild bedhead and puffy under eyes from interrupted sleep, Keith is absolutely stunning. Shiro finds himself wrapped in an embrace that grounds him better than anything he’s ever known. It helps that Kosmo is sniffing his leg curiously. “That was fast,” he muses in Keith’s hair and inhales the scent deeply. It’s clean and wild and warm like fading embers and nothing at all like the stench of the arena.

“Had to be because you had me worried. Plus, I want to go back to sleep as soon as I’m sure you’re okay.” Keith looks up at him, worry written in the lines creasing between his brows. He raises his hand to stroke Shiro’s cheek and Shiro leans into it.

“I’m better now that you’re here. You have no idea how much just seeing you has already helped.”

Keith smiles and closes the door before dropping his bag on the floor. It’s a bigger bag than usual, but Shiro supposes that’s because he had to pack for Kosmo, too. The same Kosmo who is already excitedly sniffing everything he can in Shiro’s living room, tail wagging with a dangerous ferocity. It makes the man smile softly. Something about having both of them in his apartment makes him feel whole, and it’s a thought that both surprises him and makes him realize how much Keith is rooted in his heart.

Keith, who is sporting nappy hair, one of Shiro’s older tattered shirts, a pair of sweats with a faded stain that looks suspiciously like mustard, and scuffed up, well loved black boots. Who rides his motorcycle without a helmet, has a tongue more silver than Shiro’s, and begs for whatever Shiro feels like giving him. Who has bared the most emotional parts of his soul and, in turn, has explored each corner of Shiro’s mind without judgement. There’s never any judgement. Who willingly suffers through Shiro’s most terrible kitchen experiments with nothing but encouragement. Who comes over just because Shiro’s had another stupid, but terrible nightmare.

And as Shiro leans in to kiss those sleep chapped lips, as he tastes the fading mint toothpaste and beginnings of morning breath, he realizes that this is _his_ Keith. Keith who has stolen his heart; Keith that his soul lays claim on; Keith who he is beyond deeply in love with.

When he pulls away, Keith looks dazed and licks his lips. “What was that for?”

Suddenly, the nightmare is nothing but a distant memory. “Nothing. Let’s go to bed, love.”

So they lock up and get Kosmo situated before intertwining their fingers and climbing into bed together. And even if Shiro doesn’t sleep, he finds himself in a state just as serene as he listens to Keith’s even breaths, feels his warmth in his arms, and watches the slow rise and fall of his chest.

And in the morning when they part ways to start their separate days, it’s with a kiss just as passionate and Shiro tries the best he can to convey his thanks through gentle nips of Keith’s lips.

 

* * *

 

Saturday evening, Shiro finds himself perched on the side of the bed, staring up at Keith who is animatedly recounting the day’s events to him.

“…tryin’ to explain the question and how to get the damn answer, and his jaw and coffee spill _all_ _over_ the work I’d just done. So I look to see what the fuck has him rubberneckin’-” Keith doesn’t notice the slight accent he endearingly falls into when he’s this worked up. Shiro thinks it’s cute. “-so fuckin’ hard, and there was Allura!”

Shiro pats Kosmo’s head which is rested in his lap. “So Lance has the hots for Allura? We’ve known that, love.”

“I know that! But then he said some over the top Casanova shit about the date he’d take her on if he got the chance, so I said, “Look, Lance. That sounds way too over the top and Allura would be weirded out by that intense of a first date.” And then he got all in my face, asking how I would know that and all this shit,” Keith finally breathes out a frustrated huff and back flops onto the bed, arms outstretched.

Chuckling, Shiro turns so that he can lay his head on Keith’s shoulder. “And then what’d you tell him?”

“The truth. That she’s your friend and that I talk to her from time to time but haven’t met her yet because we’re never all free at the same time. Then he asked how I can talk to her if I haven’t even met her yet.” Keith sighs again and throws an arm over his face. “It’s like the dude forgets social media exists.”

His mind wanders to the picture of a napping Keith and Kosmo sitting on his snapchat story right now. Then to Keith’s only Instagram post in the last seven months of the three of them sharing lunch after taking Kosmo to a new park. Shiro was the one who took it, but Keith thought Kosmo looked so cute trying to both steal their food and all of Shiro’s attention that Keith posted it on his own account. Sure, Kosmo was Keith’s main focus, but all Shiro could see when he saw the picture was the effortless smile on those lips he loved and the laughter in the eyes he kissed each night after Keith had fallen asleep.

He also thinks about how Allura, ever the supportive friend, replies to each of his own posts and stories to tell him how happy he looks.

Which lead to her and Keith following each other on their social media accounts. So while the two have yet to meet personally, they actually chat every once and a while.

“Anyway,” Keith continues, “that’s how we wound up invited to this party and responsible for kidnapping Allura. He’s dying to meet her.”

Shiro hums in thought and Kosmo sneezes before jumping down, probably to seek out his food bowl. “I’m pretty sure she’s off tonight, but she takes more classes than anyone else I know, so I don’t know how much homework she has.”

Tonight was supposed to be his and Keith’s night in together. Their slow-make-outs-on-the-couch and pajama night in together. He already has the movie set up in the player, just waiting for them to make it that far. He’s kind of mournful they won’t but supposes there are many other nights to make up for it. He can help his boyfriend do Lance this favor.

“I’m sure we can think of something to persuade her. We could always offer to help her with her homework too. Besides,” Keith smiles and runs thin fingers through white hair, “we haven’t all been in the same room since that party and everyone is curious about the upgraded from TA to _boyfriend_ Shiro.”

“Alright, alright. I’m sold. We can scoop Allura and we can go so you can show me off.” Shiro’s grin is wicked and teasing.

Keith’s mirrors it as he leans down to kiss him. “There are quite a few things I’d love to show off,” he says conspiratorially. The kiss would be filthy if not for both of them grinning widely.

He bites his boyfriend’s lip and winds a tight fist in his hair. “We were pretty bad at the last party. Why does this one have to be any different?”

The rough treatment has the desired effect Shiro was aiming for and Keith’s indigo eyes droop. “You wanna be on display?”

“I want to put _you_ on display and show them how good you are for me, but I can join you if you’d like.” He places wet kisses on Keith’s jaw. Trails them down his neck. Keith goes limp in his hold and Shiro pulls away gently, but abruptly.

Petulantly, Keith whines. “Fucking tease,” he whispers to himself as he rolls of the bed after Shiro.

But Shiro is digging through the side of the closet that’s slowly become Keith’s. Neither of them really remembers when that happened, just that Keith leaves clothes behind, Shiro washes and hangs them, and Keith never takes them back to his own place. Keith even has a permanent toothbrush in the bathroom and Shiro cleaned out a drawer to put Keith’s underwear, socks, and pajamas in. When Keith saw the amount of old clothes Shiro had put in a bag to either donate or toss, the man went through it, grumbling, and hoarded a few of Shiro’s old shirts.

It is endearing really, but especially torturous when Keith wears one of the old ratty shirts that hangs on his thighs and nothing else to bed.

Kosmo now has two sets of dog bowls, one for Keith’s apartment, and one that’s sitting in the corner of Shiro’s kitchen. It was Shiro who bought them and expensive dog food, claiming that he hated the thought of the wolf-dog at home, waiting by himself for his owner on the nights that Keith stayed with Shiro. And, unless the couple are up to no good, Kosmo sleeps on their feet.

Metal fingers graze over soft, black leather, the exact thing Shiro’s been searching for, and he pulls the fabric from the hanger. “Will you wear these for me, love?” He holds up the pants for Keith to see.

“And why exactly to I want to wear those?”

Leering, Shiro delicately puts them over Keith’s crossed arms. “Because they make your ass look delectable and I’ll be even more excited to get you naked later.”

The first time the pants made an appearance, Shiro had choked on his tongue. The couple figured they’d see what the clubbing hype was about. Thanks to those leather pants, they have yet to know because they never actually made it out of the apartment that night.

Keith rolls his eyes but does as asked. Only he does it with the intent to entice because he turns his back to Shiro and exaggerates his movements as he bends at the waist to pull them over his legs. They’re almost covering his ass when Shiro grabs a cheek in his hand, firmly; possessively. He squeezes as he leans to press himself against Keith’s body, inch by inch, until he can growl in his ear, “Are you gonna be good for me tonight, baby?”

He feels the way the body beneath his trembles; hears the sharp intake of breath. “Yes, sir. I’ll be very good.”

“Good boy,” he praises and steps away with a sharp smack to Keith’s ass that has the smaller man stumbling slightly for balance. “You finish getting ready, I’m going to call Allura.”

Already dialing, he finds himself on the couch and scratching behind Kosmo’s ears with his free hand. She answers on the third ring. _“Shiro!”_ she cheers. _“This is unexpected, what’s up?”_

He chuckles. “You make it sound like I never talk to you. I was actually wondering what you’re up to tonight?”

_“Hm, nothing really. I have the night off, but I want to get ahead on my class work.”_

“So you’re technically caught up? Not lacking anything? Just want to work ahead?” Allura’s always been a bit of an overachiever, but she has big shoes to fill and juggles a first and occasional second job at the same time.

There’s a small pause on the other end. _“Technically, yes. Where is this going, Shiro?”_

He grins and settles deeper into the couch. “Okay, good. Me and Keith are going to pick you up and you’re coming with us to a small party, and before you argue, you know that this will probably be the only time in the next who knows how long that we can all get together like this.”

A longer pause, but it’s long enough for Shiro’s ears to prickle at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. He sits where he is though. Knows that _not_ acknowledging his boyfriend’s presence will make him a bit more _insistent_ to show him his outfit.

Finally, _“Fine. Give me thirty minutes and I’ll be ready. Tell Keith I’m excited to finally meet him!”_

Speaking of Keith…

Shiro and Allura say their goodbyes and hang up, only for Shiro to catch Keith’s hand which is trying to dip into his jeans. “Already misbehaving, love?”

Keith simply pouts and Shiro pulls him around so that he’s standing right in front of Shiro for his viewing pleasure. He takes him in from head to toe. The still messy hair from where Shiro pulled it; the deep red band tee that Keith had cut into a tank; the blessed leather pants; Keith’s signature black boots. “You’ll get cold in that shirt, baby,” he points out.

The man steps closer, close enough that he can place his knees on the edge of the couch and straddle the end of Shiro’s thighs. “But you’ll be there to keep me warm, so I’m not worried about it.” Kosmo huffs in annoyance and moves to the other couch when Shiro yanks Keith’s body flush with his. “How much longer do we have?” he asks as he glances down hungrily at Shiro’s lips, unknowingly licking his own lips.

“Not long enough for what I want to do to you, and not long enough for me to let you have what you want.”

“Figures,” Keith grumbles, sounding as equally annoyed as Kosmo. “Guess that leaves just enough time to walk Kosmo. What’d Allura say?”

Shiro lets him go and watches him throw on his jacket and find the leash. “Well she needed a lot less convincing than I thought and said she’s excited to finally meet you.”

“I’m just a lame ass boy from Texas,” Keith laughs, “The novelty will wear off soon.”

Scoffing, Shiro settles back into the couch. “I beg to differ on both accounts.”

“You’re just a bit biased, babe.”

He scrolls through his phone while Keith walks Kosmo and gives him plenty of food and water. Half an hour goes by unpeacefully considering Lance is blowing up Keith’s phone impatiently. Ever the most punctual, Allura lets them know she’s ready.

 

* * *

 

True to word, the party is small.

Thank fuck because Matt and Pidge in the same room is already headache enough.

The trio manages to sneak in entirely unnoticed thanks to Keith already knowing the quirks of the old front door and creaky wooden floors.

There are pizza boxes and booze spread out on the table which Lance is already digging into while Hunk chastises him about being a rude host. Music plays loud enough, but not too loud throughout the house. Matt’s the first to notice them from his place by the sink and everyone, excluding Lance because his jaw is sitting on the floor, erupts into cheers.

“About fuckin time you guys come around,” Matt yells.

“About fuckin time they’re fuckin,” Pidge adds on with an eye roll. “God knows how long I had to hear Keith lament about the Hotty McHot Hot TA.”

Hunk approaches Shiro and gives the man the tightest hug he’s ever received while Keith goes over and puts Pidge in a playful chokehold. “I’m really glad you guys are finally together, man. We really did have to endure endless amounts of Keith’s not so subtle thirst. Welcome to our little family.”

Oddly, Shiro feels like he’s receiving a father’s blessing to marry Keith. Not that he’s opposed to the idea…

“Lance, pick your fucking jaw up off the floor and introduce yourself,” Keith hisses loudly and pointedly with a jerk of his chin towards Allura.

The room falls into a suspiciously unnatural amount of chatter as they remember the purpose of the party and casually try to eavesdrop on whatever is about to come of Lance’s mouth.

Lance puts his drink and pizza down as if he’s trying to stall. The room swells with the amount of breaths being held as if the walls themselves constituted a communal set of lungs. He extends his hand to her which she graciously takes. “Hi, I’m Lance, Keith’s number one best friend and I hope you enjoy this little get together.”

Shiro’s relieved that “over the top Casanova shit” didn’t immediately spill out. Someone must have talked the boy down. He watches as Lance’s ears and cheeks flame when Allura returns the handshake with a giggle. “Oh, I know who you are, Lance McClain, the university’s notorious flirt.”

Lance seems to deflate a bit at that, but Shiro recognizes the teasing look in Allura’s eyes. She doesn’t seem to be put off by Lance’s reputation. “I’m Allura and I’m sure I’ll have a pleasant time tonight. Thanks for having me in your home, Lance.”

The man in question beams and releases her hand before offering her a drink. Everyone simultaneously exhales. If there is to be disaster tonight, at least it didn’t happen during their first introduction.

Keith flits back to Shiro’s side where he laces their fingers together and drags him over to pick out a drink. As Keith’s fingers brush a wine cooler, Pidge sneaks behind them and sets a red solo cup in front of Keith. “Remember, liquor before beer,” she smirks. “I’d make you one too, Shiro, but I know you prefer fruity drinks and I only specialize in hard shit.”

“I could always make you something if you want though, babe,” Keith offers. “Ya know… being a bartender and all, I kinda specialize in it all.”

Shiro pulls him closer and settles an arm around his waist. “You mean you’re finally gonna show me your bartending magic?”

Shrugging, Keith goes to the fridge, searching for ingredients to a drink he knows Shiro will love. In any other house, a fridge coincidentally containing exactly what Keith needs would be highly unlikely, but considering Hunk’s passion for all things culinary, Keith’s hunt is a success. Without the need for strict alcohol regulations Keith knows by heart for work, he pours from the soul. In with a hefty amount of coconut rum, followed by a decent amount of pineapple juice, and finished with cranberry juice. The amount of rum would lose him his bartending license, but the juices would definitely take away a lot of the bite for Shiro.

Shiro watched Keith’s ass in those leather pants and then watched the entirety of the simple process from over Keith’s shoulder. “That’s a lot of rum, love.”

Keith turns and puts the cup in Shiro’s hand. “It’s both fruity _and_ hard,” he grins mischievously.

From across the island, Lance taunts, “Just like you, buddy.”

“Shut the fuck up before this get together turns into your funeral, Lance,” Keith growls back at the same time Matt asks, “How the hell do you know the state of his penis, Lance? Ya lookin’?” Shiro snorts. He loves when Keith gets feisty. Said spitfire redirects his attention to Shiro. “Just trust me, babe. You’ll love this.”

Shiro lifts the drink to his lips and allows it to slowly spread over his tongue. Mostly, he just tastes pineapple, but there’s a subtle cranberry tang and a dull sting of rum. “This is fucking _good_.”

Keith smirks and picks up his own drink. “I’m glad you like it.”

It doesn’t take long for everyone to lose their shoes and for the party shift to the living room where they can all be more comfortable. Someone—Shiro figures it was Pidge—had dug out their old PS2 and Matt was thoroughly whooping Lance’s ass at _Need for Speed: Carbon_.

“This is just the warmup round,” Lance claims after his second loss. “Just give me one more and then I’ll be ready to take any of you fuckers on.”

“Even me?” Allura pipes in from where she’s tucked herself on the loveseat.

Shiro’s probably the only one in the entire room who knows that Allura has quite the background in gaming. Afterall, it was a way for her and her father to bond after her mother died. She told him once that her dad was a technological genius and anything with the name _Altea_ on it, her dad had a hand in. Sometimes that ‘anything’ included games.

Charm dialed up, Lance purrs in her direction, “If you want to take me on, princess.”

Keith jolts against Shiro’s side and looks at him with curiosity when Shiro bursts out in laughter. Allura glances at Shiro, expression full of mirth, as Shiro explains in hushed whispers in Keith’s ear. Soon, all three are sharing glances.

“What?” Lance asks. “What’d I do?”

Instead of answering, Shiro takes up Matt’s previously occupied controller and tosses it over to Allura.

Somewhere between the yells of excitement, Lance’s yells of displeasure, and quite a few more drinks on nearly everyone’s part, someone started a betting pool for how many times can Allura beat Lance before he gives up. Somewhere between the bets, Keith’s hands started wandering.

First, they’re subtle touches on his knee, the top of his thigh, the seam that lays over his inner thigh. Then the touches are not so subtle and in not so innocent places. There’s an incessant press of knuckles right over his crotch.

He looks around the room and notes that everyone’s eyes are trained on the TV before he presses his lips to Keith’s ear. “Do you want something, baby?”

“No,” comes an airy reply. “Just letting my hands do some talking.”

“Their talking might get us uninvited from any future parties with your friends.” Despite his words, his own hand travels like honey from Keith’s hip to his leather clad ass. “I thought you said you were gonna behave for me tonight, love?”

“And I thought you wanted to do some displaying?”

“How about you take a turn and play the game, love?” Shiro suggests, trying to redirect Keith’s attention.

Which only adds fuel to Keith’s fires because those pretty lips form around a string of words that make Shiro’s heart race: “I have no interest in car games when I have you right here to play with.”

Pidge yells something about money, but the couple is too involved in their own game. Metal fingers dig where they hold, and flesh fingers find and tightly grip a sharp jaw. “Am I boring you, baby? Is that why you’re being bad?”

Keith doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to because Shiro’s eyes follow the line of Keith’s throat when he swallows hard. “You think I won’t spank you right here in front of all your friends?” he admonishes as he jerks Keith’s chin up to make eye contact.

It’s easy to rile Keith up. The evidence lies in the way his lips part, the way his breaths grow heavier, the way his eyes glaze over and pupils go wide. Shiro feels Keith try to lunge for his lips, so he tightens his grip, stilling him.

“You assholes aren’t allowed to fuck on my couch,” Lance directs at them loudly, effectively drawing the attention of everyone. Allura giggles from behind her hand.

Without letting go of Keith, Shiro slowly cuts his gaze to the group and smiles. “Which is exactly why I’m correcting some bad behavior.”

From the corner of his eye, he catches Keith licking his lips. The room fills with exaggerated gagging and profane protests to their public display of lust. Pidge rolls her eyes and mutters, “Leave room for Jesus,” before Shiro figures Keith is humiliated enough and releases his chin.

Matt waggles his brows suggestively and musses Pidge’s hair. “But they can always have my air mattress and I can always crash on your floor, sis.”

“No! Hunk’s perfectly sober and can take the three of them home. Those nasty asses can pick up their car in the morning,” she argues, aiming her thumb at the couple.

“I don’t wanna go yet,” Keith whines only loud enough for Shiro to hear. “I was just starting to have fun.”

“Nobody wants to bear witness to your _fun_ , buddy,” Lance grumbles loud enough to carry over Hunk and Pidge’s bantering.

“What makes you think I want to bleach my backseat once I’ve dropped them off?” Hunk asks while Shiro pats Keith’s back soothingly.

The room falls apart, game abandoned while everyone other than Shiro and Keith figure out how the couple and Allura are getting home since no one wants their furniture or floor sinned on. It’s a perfectly distracting argument really because Shiro wraps an arm around a familiar slim waist and pulls it fully onto his own lap. “I didn’t expect your friends to be so prudish,” he whispers into Keith’s ear, close enough that every syllable drags his lips across the shell.

“Maybe they just learned after the last party. We weren’t exactly subtle,” Keith jokes, even as he tips his head back so that Shiro’s lips can ghost over his pulse.

Lance yells, but Shiro knows it’s not directed at them because Matt yells back. He hears their names, but knows they’re not being called for because the yelling never stops.

Keith really has the nicest legs. They flow like water but are built as if specifically sculpted by the most skilled for the most wealthy. Shiro appreciates the shape—their slenderness that barely hides desirable strength—as he sensually runs his flesh hand from Keith’s heel, over his ankle, up his calf, to his mouth watering thigh, and finally, the light touch teases over another part of Keith that seemed sculpted specifically for Shiro.

Metal fingers slither through the cut side of Keith’s shirt and trace up his side. A single digit finds a hardening nipple, pinches it, caresses it lovingly. The result is a beautiful arch of Keith’s back. There’s a soft intake of breath that’s bitten off and Shiro feels desperate fingers tighten around his own thigh. “What’s got you so excited, love?” He presses a little harder to both spots, a tad more insistently as the playful arguing crescendos around them.

“-and is no one paying attention?” Pidge shrieks. “They’re over here getting nasty anyway! _Jesus,_ Lance, what my virgin eyes put up with just to be a good friend to you.”

As if asking for it, Lance turns to look at the couple. “ _Really? In front of the princess?”_

“Princess?” Allura asks, but it’s drowned out by Keith’s taunting. “Lance, I haven’t heard that amount of voice crack from you since high school, buddy.”

Keith seems more than content to stay where he is, but Shiro sees this as an opportunity to drag out his teasing. His hands find more socially acceptable parts of Keith to rest on and he flashes a shit eating grin.

Matt cackles and announces he needs another drink followed by announcing that he’s still too sober to see Shiro being so bold. His sister resumes begging Hunk to ‘take one for the team’ and ‘take the dogs and princess home.’

It isn’t until Lance starts wailing about his Cuban grandmother’s religious beliefs that Keith sits up and stares at Hunk. Shiro recognizes his determined expression and knows that it’s time to leave. “Let me go collect our shoes, love.” He feels a little bad about leaving Hunk who always looks like a nervous lamb alone with Keith who is clearly a very hungry and irritated lion.

He feels less bad when, because of that intimidating lion, they find themselves in the backseat of Hunk’s pickup while Allura is jumping out the passenger door. She bids them goodnight and gives Shiro a knowing glance. “While it was lovely to finally meet Keith in person, I do pity those who invite you both anywhere where alcohol is involved.” Hunk laughs and Keith grumbles, but Shiro smiles and watches fondly as Allura makes her way up to her apartment. He knows there will be a slew of messages in the morning, fondly teasing the couple and possibly griping about Lance.

To Shiro’s surprise, Keith behaves himself for the remaining duration of the drive. Their sides are pressed together and there’s the welcome weight of Keith’s head on his shoulder, but those hands never once strayed into non-innocent places.

Hunk and Shiro make eye contact in the review mirror and Hunk seems to be thankful that he apparently won’t have to sanitize his back seat after all.

They part ways with the promise of bringing Hunk a specific and hard to find ingredient as a way to make up for offending his innocence with their terribleness. Shiro tells him he’ll be by in the morning for his car before wrapping an arm around Keith’s shoulders and leading him up the stairs.

Kosmo nearly plants Shiro on his ass again as soon as they step through the door but is stopped by Keith’s sharp whistle. The dog sits and wiggles excitedly as he stares at them. Keith crouches down to his level and loves on him while Shiro drops his keys and loses his jacket. The dog yips happily when Shiro joins them on the floor to dole out affection.

“It’s your turn to walk him,” Keith tells him nonchalantly as he stands and Shiro wants to whine until Keith stretches and tosses him a look over his shoulder.

“Yes, baby. We’ll be back shortly.”

Keith merely returns a hum of acknowledgment before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Just you and me now, buddy,” he tells Kosmo. “Let’s go.”

Shiro and Kosmo’s walks together have improved since the first few times. A leash was absolutely necessary because Kosmo _loved_ showing Shiro who was boss. Now the leash stays tucked neatly in a drawer until they all go out together. Now Kosmo minds Shiro nearly as well as he minds Keith, a fact that Keith found most impressive because Kosmo loves to run everybody over that isn’t him.

Even though summer is fast approaching and the air is tinged with the scent of finals induced stress, the night is still chilly and sobering. Shiro watches the dog pace the grass while he’s lost in thought. Lost in thinking about the events leading up to this domesticity. The fact that they have turns in who walks Kosmo. That Kosmo greets them both at the door. That when their friends argued about taking them home, _home_ for both of them was the same destination. That Keith has absolute free range of the apartment even while Shiro is out like right now.

He looks up at the stars and sends them silent thanks for sending him Keith.

 

* * *

 

Shiro finds Keith stretched out on the bed when he walks into the room. The man is lying on his stomach with his bare feet crossed. There is a long moment of appreciation for such an amazing ass in leather. “I was thinking,” he starts as he crawls up and slowly lowers his weight onto Keith.

“Oh no, that’s a dangerous thing to do,” Keith teases.

“Mhmm,” Shiro agrees as he rubs a reverent hand over that worship worthy ass. “I was thinking that I want to try something new with you.”

Dark eyes look at him suspiciously. “Shiro, almost everything I do with you is new. How will this be any different?”

Shiro’s lips pull into a smirk. “Even though you were bad at the party, I still want to reward you. So… do you trust me?”

Without any hesitation, Keith nods slowly. “Of course I do.”

“Good. Wait right here while I grab a few things.”

And by this point, the mood in the room has shifted and Keith displays the obedience he’s developed naturally for Shiro.

The first thing he grabs is a black shirt Keith had left on the floor this morning. He bunches the fabric into a suitable substitute for a blindfold and gently ties it around Keith’s head, making sure it covers those beautiful eyes the way he needs it to. “I can’t have you seeing what I’m grabbing. That would ruin the surprise.”

Keith just replies with a soft breath that Shiro captures with a brief kiss.

Then the real rummaging begins as Shiro digs through both the top drawer and the bottom one. His fingers ghost over a condom and he pauses. “Hey, love. How do you feel about condoms tonight?”

“Don’t want one unless you want one.”

So Shiro skips the condom and places the items softly on the bed. He sees Keith’s hand twitch lightly as if he’s trying to feel around for them. “Aht!” Shiro reprimands gently.

His own clothes come off quickly, but he takes his time with Keith’s. He brushes the pads of his fingertips so slowly over warm skin as he lifts Keith’s shirt from his body which has Keith biting into his lower lip. Shiro smooths it with a thumb before pushing his lover flat on his back. Keith’s arousal is apparent in the way the leather is straining over his cock and Shiro presses over it with his palm, making Keith gasp.

“Are you gonna tease me all night, sir?” Keith asks, but the words are soft as if Keith is already lost to the sensations.

“No, just long enough.”

Keith doesn’t say anything after that and Shiro kisses down the flat plain of Keith’s belly until his mouth meets the cold button of his pants. Shiro takes care of it and the zipper with his teeth, making sure his nose brushes along newly exposed skin, earning him the quietest of moans. He breathes hotly over Keith’s length as his hands, with all the speed of honey, drag both boxers and leather down heavenly legs. Nimble fingers gather in his hair and he chuckles softly as his lips press loving kisses down Keith’s shaft.

He pulls Keith’s legs over his shoulders and braces his hands on slender hips to keep them down. His tongue catches the moisture dewing on Keith’s cockhead and he hums at the taste. Keith makes a sound and Shiro sinks himself lower on the length. Once it reaches his throat, he moans and thighs tighten around his head.

Keith cries out softly, tightening his fingers as he arches, trying to fuck Shiro’s mouth despite the hold on his hips. Hips that Shiro tightens his hold on before letting go of one so he can blindly chase down the lube he’d hunted up. Clumsily, he onehandedly opens the cap and makes a mess of it on his fingers. Fingers he presses against Keith’s entrance before the lube warms up. Keith flinches, but Shiro distracts him with another swallow.

The pace he sets with his mouth is slow and tortuous as Keith opens beautifully around his fingers. When his fingers brush against sensitive nerves, Keith moans earnestly. For what he’s about to do, he lets his lover enjoy the sweet torture of too much but not enough against that spot. And Keith begs for more, even while his tongue roughly traces thick veins and his fingers rub slow but cruelly against Keith’s prostate.

So Shiro watches as he gives Keith just a taste of what he wants, never fully caving to him. Watches Keith’s chest heave with deep and fast breaths. Watches Keith’s sculpted stomach ripple and roll, trying to chase what Shiro won’t give him. And when he sees the tell-tale signs of Keith’s orgasm, he withdrawals his fingers and lets Keith’s cock fall from his mouth.

Keith lets out a desperate sound of protest and yanks Shiro’s hair, trying to pull him back to finish him off. The pain doesn’t register, only Keith’s desperation which has Shiro groaning low in his chest before he pulls those fingers from his hair with a chuckle. “Patience, baby. What’s coming is gonna be a lot better than what you want right now.” He lays Keith’s legs back against the bed and stands up to survey his work from a better angle.

And what a beautiful sight Keith makes like this, looking desperate and flushed and wet and hard. His hair is a mess and his lower lip is swollen from being bitten so roughly. His chest is heaving and his legs are slightly trembling. Shiro smiles at his work and grabs the lube from the floor. “Take a moment to cool off, love. You’re gonna need it. While you’re at it, why don’t you lay back against the pillows.”

Keith makes a questioning sound, but obeys nonetheless. Even though it takes him a little longer to get his body to cooperate enough to do so.

Ideally, Shiro would climb up to for what he’s about to do, but he knows Keith would take advantage of him being within reach. So instead, he leans over the end of the bed and spreads lube over his fingers.

“Shiro?” Keith asks at the sound.

Shiro reaches behind himself and traces his own hole almost teasingly. It’s been so long since he’s done this, but he’s too impatient to take his time. “Just take a little bit to calm down, Keith. I’ll join you soon enough.” He sinks a finger in himself, nearly hissing at the sensation. In and out and in and out until he’s ready for another. The addition of his middle finger makes a lewd sound and he hears the way Keith’s breath hitches with interest.

He quickly grows accustomed to the stretch he hasn’t felt since Adam first came into his life and scissors his fingers diligently, readying himself for a third. His focus right now is just stretching himself enough for Keith, not for pleasuring himself. But still, he can’t help the gasp as he adds a third finger or the slight moan when he just barely glances against his prostate.

Keith’s impatience shows in the way he shifts against the pillows. “Shiro,” he whines, and really, it would be easy for Shiro to get himself off like this. To the sight of Keith blindfolded and obedient. He looks like the lewdest work of art that’s ever graced the earth. Shiro tells him so and Keith’s cheeks grow redder in response.

Finally, he’s ready and he joins Keith on the bed, grabbing the other items as he does. He kisses one of Keith’s knees before spreading them apart to settle between them. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve _been_ ready,” Keith insists, “but somebody took forever.”

“Watch your tone or you’ll be waiting until tomorrow.” And as expected, Keith quieted himself.

The quiet didn’t last for long though because Shiro pressed the tip of the toy he’d picked against Keith’s still slick hole. A moan filled the space between them, growing louder the deeper Shiro pressed the toy into him. Once the plug was settled, Shiro shifted until he was straddling Keith’s waist.

He almost wishes he hadn’t blindfolded Keith so that he could see the entirety of his lover’s expression as he realizes what’s happening. Shiro figures that watching the way Keith’s jaw drops is enough. So is watching Keith clench his teeth as Shiro takes that hard cock and lining it up with his own hole. He starts to sink down and Keith’s hands fly to his hips. “That’s a good boy,” Shiro praises with a dirty grin. “Now hang on.”

Once he’s fully seated, he grabs the remote and presses a button, bringing the plug to life and making Keith yell.

“O-oh, fuck, Shiro!”

Shiro presses a hand to Keith’s chest for leverage as he starts to ride Keith in earnest, angling his hips with each drop of his weight until Keith’s cock is pressing in just the right spot. He moans loudly each time and Keith’s hips jolt to meet his. “ _Jesus,_ baby, you’re so good for me,” he praises, voice hitched with pleasure.

“ _Yes, yes, yes,”_ Keith cries, “So good for you, f-f-fuck you feel so good!”

A particularly desperate thrust on Keith’s part knocks the air right out of Shiro’s lungs and he tips his head back as he rides harder, feeling the vibrations travelling up Keith’s length sink into his own walls. Gasps aloud with every collision of their bodies.

“Wanna… Wanna see you,” Keith begs as his nails dig into Shiro’s hips.

Before Shiro obliges, he presses the button on the remote again, speeding the vibrations up. Keith is mumbling incoherently when Shiro frees him of his blindfold and Shiro could cum just from the way Keith is looking at him.

His eyes are dark like the night after a thunderstorm that’s been illuminated by burning arousal. It sucks the air from the room and not for the first time, Keith has rendered Shiro completely and utterly breathless. He rides more desperately, relishing in the languid but fierce pleasure permeating every cell in his body. And he must have closed his eyes because suddenly _he’s_ the one on his back and Keith is driving into him.

“Keith,” he groans and pulls him closer. Pulls him deeper. “That’s it, baby,” Shiro praises. “Fuck me, Keith.”

Distantly, he’s aware that Keith’s kissing over his neck and moaning so close to his ear. “Sh-Shiro… not gonna, mmn! Not gonna last,” Keith warns. And suddenly, Shiro’s vision is full of Keith’s face. Keith over him, expression one of pure ecstasy, hair falling over his shoulder.

Shiro grips it with his finger, clutching the strands and pulling Keith down to kiss him. “Come for me, Keith,” he says breathlessly, gently.

And he’s so close. So, so close to reaching his own end. But it’s Keith wrapping a hand around his dick that’s his undoing. He clenches tightly with a final moan and feels the stuttering of Keith’s hips just as warmth fills him. His orgasm is blinding, but he can hear the way Keith vocalizes his own and pride settles in his chest in place of oxygen.

He’s vaguely aware, once a welcome weight has collapsed on him, that said weight was whimpering pitifully. Shiro fumbles around for the remote and turns the toy off. Keith sighs in relief and Shiro soothes a hand down the curve of his back. They both silently bask in the afterglow as they collect themselves.

Keith’s almost asleep when Shiro coaxes him to take a bath with him.

He holds the man close and combs through wet tangle with gentle fingers while warm water soothes their muscles. Keith sighs so contently it makes Shiro’s heart ache with affection.

“I could stay like this forever,” the younger man hums and Shiro is hit with a wave of affection that forces his eyes closed.

“Me too, baby. I could hold you like this forever.”

It’s silent for a few beats of Shiro’s heart, then, “Shiro?”

He cracks an eye open to see that Keith is looking at him so softly yet with so much resolve. “Hm?”

“I love you.”

And the three words are said so simply, so naturally. As if in that moment, that’s all Keith knew to be true. Which is okay. They don’t need the fanfare of making those words a big event. Not when Shiro’s known his feelings are the same. Not when they fall together so easily into everything they do. From kisses before work, to studying together for classes, to bedtime rituals, to walking Kosmo, to bickering about whose turn it is to make breakfast. Their schedules and lives are so intertwined now. So intertwined that for Shiro, as long as they’re together, he’s home.

He drops a lingering kiss to Keith’s damp forehead. Breathes in the scent of Keith’s shampoo that he brought over and never took back to his own apartment.

“I love you too, Keith.”

When they find themselves back in bed, Kosmo lying across their feet and shooting them occasional suspicious looks, Shiro pulls Keith closer to his chest than usual and holds him as tight as is comfortable for them both.

If Keith has any complaints, he doesn’t voice them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on a slow burn for Castlevania and TRYING to work on a slow burn vampire Sheith. I say trying because s8 really did a number on me lol. Usually I maintain motivation by rewatching shows, but I haven't been able to bring myself to rewatch Voltron.  
> Anyway, be on the lookout for those if you're interested. I should start posting the Castlevania one within the next month.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. I forgot how tedious it is to transfer text from a word doc to here. Jesus.


End file.
